Toy Soldiers
by Soot
Summary: Germany, Italy, America and England are all kidnapped. They don't know where they are or if they will even survive. Matthew sets out to find them, but is always followed by Francis and stalked by Gilbert. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Toy Soldiers

Summary: Germany, Italy, America and England are all kidnapped. They don't know where they are or if they will even survive. Slash. I am awful at summaries. Sorry!

Disclaimer: I do not own and never will.

Warning: The only warning I can think of for this one is that I suck at summaries. ^_^ Oh! And the usual slash warning!! ^o^

A/N: I did promise a sequel for Moonlight Shadow – but I need some more time on that. It's not falling into place at all so while I wrestle with that one, I am writing this one to keep my sanity in place (not that I had much in the first place). Anyway – hope you all enjoy!

Chapter 1

"Doitsu! Doitsu!"

Ludwig groaned as the world insisted on continuing to spin before his eyes. The world however consisted of only dark shapes and little light.

"Doitsu!"

The cry was becoming ever increasingly alarming to Ludwig's ears. He was having trouble placing the voice though. Recognisable, but the face and name kept avoiding him, as though it wanted to remain surrounded in mystery.

"DOITSU"!!

Ludwig sat up with such speed that he thought for a second he might hurt himself, "FELICIANO!" he bellowed. He only had to do it the once as Feliciano collided with him, sending them both to the ground.

"Doitsu". Feliciano whispered into the crook of Ludwig's neck. Ludwig gestured for him to back off him so he could sit up again. Feliciano hesitated, but finally obliged and sat back, his chocolate eyes filled with tears, his cheeks shining with them.

Ludwig enclosed Feliciano's hand's with his own, noticing how the Italian's cold hands were violently shaking. Sensing how cold Feliciano was, Ludwig pulled him into a tight embrace, hoping that his body heat would warm the cold Italian. Feliciano continued to sob and soon Ludwig could feel the dampness soaking through his jacket. He sensed that it would take some awesome power to get Feliciano to let go of him as he settled down, his back against the wall and trying to make himself as comfortable as possible while he waited for the other two to wake up so they could come up with a plan of escape.

Arthur, over the other side of the cell, laid watching and listening, the cold concrete floor long ago making his side numb but he could not bring himself to move. He shivered in silence while his head rested on his arm and his ash blonde hair shook in time with his body. His muscles hurt dreadfully while he tried not to let his teeth chatter. There was a damp, musty smell in the cell, making the want for fresh, English air almost unbearable for him.

He could see Alfred from where he was laying, his emerald green eyes were trained on his face exclusively while he was listening for anything that would give away their predicament. Listening, he had heard everything since he had come around, which, judging by the some what sudden commotion, he judged himself to be the first.

Some of the stuff he had heard though set blazing cold lightning bolts up his spine.

He had not caught the whole conversation, but he had caught enough. There intentions towards Alfred worried him greatly. He had caught the phrase 'We'll teach that _fucking_ hero'. It took him no time at all to know that he would jump to Alfred's defence if they followed through with what he had heard, but until that time Arthur was content to lie as he was and contemplate while keeping an eye on Alfred.

On seeing Alfred coming around, he sat up and leant himself against the wall; refusing to allow his caring side to show. He had refused that side to Alfred since the American War of Independence. That one memory was still capable of causing a blazing inferno of emotions within him. At that particular moment though, he fought the memory back so Alfred would not see the tears that would form in his eyes and threaten to spill over. Alfred now saw him purely as a tsundere nation.

However, as Arthur watched Alfred sit up and rub the side of his head (which Arthur made a note to check on later as it seemed that Alfred had suffered an injury) he didn't see the arrogant nation that nine times out of ten had his head so far up his own ass that he couldn't see others suffering – including Arthur's own, but instead he saw the small nation that used to be in his care. The very same nation that once upon a time used to run to him for protection because it was thundering outside. Arthur knew those days were gone, and it tore his heart apart to admit it, but in those few moments where Alfred looked lost and confused and … childlike, Arthur wanted nothing more than to take him into his arms and promise him everything was going to be alright again. But, still, the painful memories of Alfred leaving him wouldn't allow him to go to his aid.

Alfred looked around, trying to remember what had happened, how they had got there and why. He got nothing but blank. He had no idea what time it was, or day or month, and noticing the others, they appeared to have drawn the same blank as he had. He saw Arthur watching him steadily while Feliciano didn't seem to notice his presence at all.

Sensing no help was forthcoming in the near future, Alfred took it upon himself, as usual, to dictate to others that he was the hero and, yet again, everyone else was to be his support. Arthur rolled his eyes with pure annoyance.

"W-what?" Feliciano asked as he continued to sob and started to hiccup. The idea of no help coming terrified him.

"Calm down". Ludwig encouraged, but the unexpected sound of something crashing to the ground off in the distance caused the young Italian to do the opposite.

"We surrender!" Feliciano shouted, doubled over, tears streaming down his cheeks. "We surrender, we surrender, we surrender!" Everyone could see that he was desperate for a white flag or two to wave about, but he didn't have any on him nor the material to make them.

Ludwig tightened his hold over the young Italian and tried to sooth him. "I will protect you Feliciano". He said, becoming very defensive of the trembling brunette.

"Doitsu". Feliciano whimpered into the blonde's jacket, his grip though loosening as Ludwig's words calmed him.

"Hey! America!" Ludwig growled at Alfred. "Do everyone a favour and shut up".

"But I'm the hero remember!" Alfred shouted in his usual exuberant tone, completely ignoring Ludwig. Arthur rolled his eyes again as he was expecting the comment, but the comment reminded him of the words he over heard. While Arthur looked as though he was in a trance, Ludwig stared dumbfounded at Alfred and Feliciano stopped sobbing. "I am the hero and I will get us all out of here!" Alfred boasted.

"Alright then". Arthur decided to humour Alfred; besides, it might give him a laugh to hear his latest hair brain scheme and take his mind off his fears for a while. "What's the plan?" He had always thought he had educated Alfred better. He just hoped that his stupidity was just for show and there was some actual intelligence there … somewhere.

"Well, firstly – we need to build a super hero!" Alfred was cut short after that one statement.

"Just stop". Arthur sighed. "Please just stop! Firstly, you used this once in a meeting to combat global warming – there were no takers on the idea then so what makes you think we will now? And secondly – OUT OF FUCKING WHAT!!!" Arthur's temper spiked.

"Okay okay – bad idea for this situation; but not for the war against global warming I'll have you know! You're all backwards when it comes to my awesome plans. How about then …"

"Save it. I'm surprised I've not seen a rat yet". Arthur chuntered the last part to himself as his emerald eyes swept the area.

"Well … it's not actually that bad here". Alfred shrugged.

"What! This damp, dreary and some what unappealing cage?! Oh yeah! Home away from fucking home, twat!" Arthur spat, his dry tone making Alfred rise to the challenge – as usual.

While Arthur was trying to strangle Alfred, Ludwig watched attentively for the first minute before turning his attention back to Feliciano. "See – everything is getting back to normal already". He could see that this usual spectacle some what calmed the frightened Italian.

Alfred, slightly fatigued from bickering with Arthur, slouched down against the wall. "I'm going to die if I don't have a burger soon". His exhaustion, which seemed to be the same for Arthur as well since his cheeks were tinted pink and gasping for breath, he decided came from lack of food. His stomach was growling for something to satisfy it, even if it was Iggy's cooking.

"Aww, already missing your daily grease intake". Arthur mocked, ignoring how faint he felt.

Alfred, deciding to try to take his mind off food, rose to the challenge again and once more they were at each others necks. Ludwig continued to watch and, with the familiarity of the actions and customs now taking effect on Feliciano in addition with his fatigue from his shock, terror and crying, he drifted off in to a light sleep.

Ludwig tightened his embrace around Feliciano before sighing. What was going on? We're they going to be left to kill each other (that idea originating from watching England and America fight again), or was there something else that they were all missing.

Arthur and Alfred continued to bicker with one another until voices could be heard drifting towards them, the voices accompanied by the sound of boots impacting stone. They both stopped and, as neither could see the others face, a fleeting look of terror passed over Alfred's face while Arthur felt sicked to the stomach and turned a light shade of green.

The sound of the door being unlocked caused Feliciano to wake up and start trembling again. Ludwig got ready to protect him by standing up. He couldn't get Feliciano to let him go, so he settled for shooting a murderous look at the intruders while his fists were by his side, clenched tightly.

Arthur watched two men enter the room while the other two were stood outside, guns ready in case anyone of them tried to escape. Arthur found himself stood between the men and Alfred, and noticing how they were constantly looking over his shoulder at Alfred instead of at him, or even at Ludwig or Feliciano, the words that he had overheard came back to him again. The chilling realization hit him.

_'We'll teach that fucking hero'. _

_'We'll teach that fucking hero'. _

In a split second decision, Arthur spun round and swung a punch at Alfred that he had never thought he would have thrown, no matter how angry he could have been at him. The fist landed between Alfred's eyes and knocked him over, blood gushing from his nose as he hit the floor unconscious. A feeling of guilt racked him as he watched, fists by his side; Alfred didn't move while his eyes were closed and his glasses no longer on his face, but instead on the ground by his feet, broken. Arthur was breathing heavy and his hair was stuck up at odd angles as he fought tears, trying to reason that what he had just done was for the greater good.

As he stood contemplating what he had done, the two men stood behind Arthur moved forward and seized him, dragging him towards the cell door. Arthur was too dazed to fight, his emerald eyes wide and glittering in the little light of the cell.

Ludwig noticed a single lone tear glide silently down Arthur's ashen cheek as his mouth move silently. He could have sworn he was mouthing 'Alfred' over and over.

As the cell door was slammed shut, Feliciano silently untangled himself from Lugwig before silently walking over to Alfred. Ludwig followed, unsure of what to do next.

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you for the response. I have to admit, I am very chuffed with the alert section on my state page for this story! ^o^ I have just got a definition of 'chuffed' – British informal to mean pleased! Why yes – I am in Arthur's guerilla army of fan girls! I'm a freaking officer – FTW!

Chapter 2:

Matthew sat with his fingers laced trying, _actually trying_, to become invisible. He had been a picture of pity before when he had wanted to be noticed by the other nations. Now however, with Prussia glaring at him from across the table with something he hoped he was mistaking for lust, Russia next to him hiding beneath the table because Belarus had entered the room and the Ukraine on his other side jumping up and down through excitement, her breasts making Matthew incredibly nervous. As far as he was concerned, he could be knocked out by those … those … THINGS!

That and four nations were missing.

Matthew was starting to think that England, America, Germany (maybe not so much Italy) kept things in order at meetings, despite all the bickering they did in turn.

"This meeting is much too … too … odd". Matthew said to his polar bear, currently sat in his lap taking in the mornings entertainment silently. He knew he couldn't say quiet because that wasn't the case. The room was two steps away from someone grabbing a chair and chucking it out of a window. Either that or Russia was going to throw himself through one in an attempt to get away from Belarus. Also, oddly enough, he was missing Feliciano's verbal appreciation of pasta and pizza.

"France?" Matthew asked unsure that the other nation would even take notice of him. "Have you seen Alfred ... or Arthur?"

France peered over his wine glass looked slightly thoughtful before answering no. "They may have forgotten, Monsieur. A gleam entered his eye. Matthew tilted his head at it, puzzled. France smirked knowing that Matthew was silently questioning what he was thinking. "My darling Matthew. So young … so naive. I do believe they have … hooked up". France smirked, trying to hold back a '_I bloody knew it!' _look on his face.

"It's not like Arthur to forget a meeting". Matthew mumbled to himself. Yes okay, the sexual tension between those two was thick enough to be cut with a knife, and Alfred was well known to make a late appearance due to a so called faulty alarm clock (Matthew knew he turned it off before he went to bed), but Arthur was never late nor did he ever missed a meeting; ever!

Something was simply not adding up.

While Matthew was sat pondering, Francis was pretty sure that was the reason for the missing nations and began to tell everyone. He considered it spreading the good, long awaited news. Two new happy couples.

"FRANCE! Get your mind out of the gutter!" Switzerland bellowed, making Francis stumble backward and fall over his own feet.

_'I can only imagine what Francis is saying. If it's anything like the ''talks'' I got growing up, I'm surprised no one has punched him yet'. _

Spoke too soon.

France flopped down back into his chair, pouting, a black eye forming beautifully. A real stunner.

"I didn't know Switzerland could punch that hard. Look and my beautiful face". France started to cry. "There is no romance left in the world!"

Matthew sighed. Perhaps it was Alfred's ego and Arthur's bickering that kept things in line at meetings after all. Prussia was beginning to make gestures at him that made him uncomfortable, _very uncomfortable, _Belarus was virtually climbing over the table after she found she couldn't flip it over and Russia was in a state of meltdown. That and France had booted Ukraine out of her seat and was currently making his shoulder all wet and horrid.

Matthew found liberation though from Ferliciano's brother, South Italy, who had booted open the door in such temper that everyone froze.

"Feliciano!" He shouted in temper. "Where is that sausage munching bastard! What's he done with my brother!"

"We don't know". Canada said, and was surprised that he was heard _and _taken notice off.

"What you mean you have no idea? Where is that potato freak! I'll kill him".

_'He didn't use my name. Could be an improvement. He didn't call me Alfred'. _

"That's the point; your brother is just one of four nations that should be here. Where are they? Alfred has never been this late without a phone call". China informed.

"Yeah, and the phone call would be practically dripping with self worth and delusions of grandeur". Canada mumbled more to himself than to others. France was pretty sure that was England's line, but since he wasn't there to give it himself, Matthew seemed to be substituted.

"Well, I can't find my brother anywhere!"

Canada looked at France, a worried expression written across his face. "I couldn't get in touch with Alfred either".

"I tried to call Monsieur Kirkland". France shook his head.

"I think it would be best to hold the meeting off until we at least hear from them". Matthew said and France nodded. Russia verbally agreed, a desperate look plastered on his face as Belarus had him trapped in his seat. To the side though, Matthew whispered to France, "I'm really worried about this".

"Me too Monsieur". France replied. "Since the meeting isn't going ahead, I'm going to try Monsieur Kirkland again". France left the meeting room, all eyes (except Belarus) were on him and his eccentric dress style.

"Waste of time". Switzerland chuntered before taking the same line of exit as France. Russia fled after with Belarus hot on his heals.

_'God help the poor fellow'. _

Matthew drummed his fingers on the table as the other nations left. As soon as he was alone, he pulled out his phone from his pocket and pressed in Alfred's number.

"HELLO!" Matthew pulled the phone away from his ear as he received the some what loud answer phone. "You have reached Alfred the Awesome. I'm out being a hero and saving the world right now, so leave me a message. If it's you though Arthur, no! I'm not going to yours for Christmas. Do you hear me! I want to live to see next year. I don't intend on dying from your cooking! Ask Matthew instead!"

Matthew ended the call and rested his head in his hands his polar bear still sat in his lap, but now was looking up expectantly at him.

_'Where are you Alfred? Where are you?'_

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Such a long chapter! At least I did it before the school week started again. ^o^ No one would have seen it until next Saturday if I hadn't had finished it today.

Chapter 3

The initial shock of what had happened right before his eyes in such a short space of time had taken almost half an hour to finally relinquish its hold over Ludwig. Feliciano, however, had faired much better as he fussed and fretted. Ludwig felt that he would have much preferred to have taken the whole event like Feliciano had rather than feel the detachment that he now felt.

Feliciano had broken away from his side and retrieved Alfred's now broken glasses from the ground and looked, as Ludwig noticed, as though he was about to cry once more. To Ludwig's amazement though, he didn't.

Much to his surprise, Feliciano started trying to mend them.

It took Ludwig a while to finally understand the Italian's strange actions. Alfred could see without them, not too well, but enough to get by. It wasn't like they were the most vital necessity that needed attending to immediately. Moreover, he didn't have anything to fix them with.

When he finally saw the motive, he felt racked with guilt for not understanding sooner.

Moving silently, he walked to Feliciano and gently took the glasses from him. Feliciano's eyes fell to the floor, his hands feeling suddenly empty. Ludwig glanced at the glasses before depositing them in his pocket. He would let Alfred decide what to do with them – they were his after all.

Ludwig pulled Feliciano to him and held him tight, placing a small kiss on top of his forehead. Sighing, Ludwig kept him close, but his eyes were scanning the area for any weaknesses to the cell.

~*~*~

There were buckets filled to the rim with ice cold water that lined the floor up against the tiled wall. A pair of gloved hands retrieved one and, raising it high, emptied the contents over Arthur's head. Arthur gasped, a primitive fear of drowning tearing at him. Tied down to the table, Arthur struggled against his bonds in a blind panic to the point where his wrists and ankles were bleeding profusely.

Another bucket of water was tipped over him, causing him to desperately gasp for air again, his emerald eyes shining with terror. A wet cloth was then thrust in his mouth before yet more water was tipped over him. Blind terror took over and he began to try to scream, his throat becoming raw with the effort but little, strangulated sounds were the only things to be heard.

This systematically continued before the buckets of water ran out. Arthur was trembling as they removed the wet cloth from in his mouth. They left him tied to the table as they disappeared out of the room to acquire the next piece of torture equipment. Arthur watched them through heavy, half closed eye as they left before drifting into a blissful, black abyss.

~*~*~

Alfred began to stir as he came around. His hands rose to his eyes to rub them subconsciously as he rolled onto his side, suddenly curious about his absent glasses. The world before him was blurred, but he could make out the figures of the German and the Italian.

"Where's Arthur?" He groaned as he couldn't make out the figure of the Englishman.

"They took him". Feliciano told him.

"What?" Alfred asked as he sat up, brushing a hand through his hair, his nose feeling far too delicate to touch as of that time.

"They took him". Ludwig replied. "Just after Arthur punched you".

"I thought they were going to take you". Feliciano said, not realising that Ludwig had paled slightly. "The way they kept looking at you over Arthur's shoulder. I could have sworn it was you they wanted!"

Alfred felt like someone had placed a led brick in his stomach and a clamp on his heart. Up till those comments, he was ready to punch Arthur back. He had at first felt confused. Arthur, not even in the height of temper, had ever struck him. Feliciano though had unwittingly told him the reason for the sudden change in Arthur's values.

He had been protecting him.

"Stupid! Stupid!" Alfred chuntered to himself as he rose himself up from the ground. "God damn you Arthur!"

Feliciano furrowed his eyebrows, confused. "Huh?"

"Arthur knocked Alfred out so that they would take him in place of Alfred because what fun could gained from someone who's unconscious? They can't scream". Ludwig told Feliciano, causing the Italian to go far too pale.

"Thank you for being _that _blunt". Alfred spat.

"Sorry". Ludwig apologized for his tactless answer. "Oh. These are yours". He retrieved the American's broken glasses from his pocket and handed them to him. Alfred sighed, realising that they were the equivalent of useless. He discarded them to the far corner in frustration before sitting back down, his back against the wall. He sighed before he spoke.

"Any weak points, Ludwig?" He asked.

"The typical one … the exit". Ludwig replied. "I've tried all the bars and bricks for lose ones".

Alfred shook his head in frustration.

"We need to come up with a plan of escape".

~*~*~

Arthur awoke, his head resting on one side and his eyes still heavy. A small, questioning noise escaped his lips as his eyes focused on the blue eyes of the man knelt next to him.

"Alfred?" He whispered.

There was no reply with the exception of a hand brushing through his hair. Suddenly, the hand gripped his hair and pulled his head violently back, nearly tear his hair out. Arthur let out a gasp of pain but no more.

He felt a strange detachment as he waited for the next round of torture to commence. Nearly everything he felt within him was strangely relaxed, peaceful and tranquil. There was fear, but he had relented himself to what was happening; a strange detachment had taken over.

He found his chin in a vice like grip and his head yanked to one side, his green eyes meeting black ones. He tried to turn his head in the direction of his right hand. The bond on his right wrist had been loosened a little, though not enough to get his hand through, and his fingers we're being parted and held tightly.

A cruel, twisted smirk spread across his captors face before blinding pain coursed through his body once more. A metal strip had been crudely shoved beneath his nail and an electric current passed through it. Arthur cried out in agony, trying instinctively to pull his hand away from them, but couldn't.

His back arched as they shoved the metal strip beneath the next finger nail and turned on the current again, this time a bit higher.

The only thing that Arthur could think of between the electric current and the pain was Alfred.

~*~*~

Alfred's hero complex had taken a huge impact. He no longer jumped to the conclusion that everyone was going to be his support while he was going to be the ultimate hero. It wasn't that he felt he would fail; it was the sudden realisation that a hero wasn't a hero without those he had around to help and support him.

The best plan that they could come up with between them was to jump the captors when they entered the cell. That left a few fundamental problems, the most important being that the captors were all armed and ready to fire on them. They had already taken precautions against such an escape attempted. Another fundamental flaw was that they had no idea concerning the lay out of where they were. Were they in an abandoned building? Bunker? (An underground bunker making Alfred skittish thinking there were ghosts around of those previously stationed there). Were they in the countryside or an industrial complex abandoned for some reason? None of them had any ideas. Even if they could escape – where would they go?

"You do realise that when the time comes, that if we have no answers, we will have to take our chances?" Ludwig said matter of factly to Alfred.

"I know". Alfred nodded, his hero complex sparking back up again as his mind sorted through all the potential possibilities that laid before him. Alfred being Alfred though, some were not even worth thinking about. Needless to say, one involved a super hero. "We're all leaving together; Arthur included". Alfred made clear. Even if he had to hunt for him through what could be a labyrinth of corridors, they were all leaving together.

"Agreed". Ludwig nodded. Feliciano sat down close to Ludwig, looking tired and depleted of energy. He rested his head on Ludwig's shoulder and closed his eyes. Alfred watched the two interact closely. He shook his head, dismissing his conclusion as impossible. Ludwig noticed.

"Yes?"

"Nothing". Alfred shrugged.

"Hardly". Ludwig shot back.

"Just thought you both act like a couple". Alfred again shrugged.

"We are". Feliciano smiled, pressing himself against Ludwig side, his arms wrapped around his neck.

Alfred was stunned. "R – r – really?"

"Yeah". Feliciano replied, looking much closer to his usual self again as he pecked Ludwig on the cheek.

"We just didn't feel the need to make our relationship public". Ludwig informed gruffly.

"Well – congratulations!" Alfred beamed. In the back of his mind though he questioned if he and Arthur could ever be the same.

~*~*~

"_Aaarrtthhhuuurr!" _

_Arthur looked over the top of his book to see a young America looking up at him, his blue eyes wide and questioning. _

"_What's the matter Alfred?" Arthur asked concerned as he recognised the sparkle in Alfred's eyes that usually meant that he had been, or was about to, cry. _

"_Arthur? … What's death like?" Alfred asked quietly. Arthur was stunned that such a young nation like America could even be thinking of such things, let alone being concerned about them. Alfred climbed onto the sofa next to Arthur and crawled onto his lap, hugging him tightly. "I don't want to die Arthur. It will be cold, dark and lonely, I just know it!" _

_Arthur blushed with Alfred clinging to him for comfort. He had never been the one people generally turned to for comfort, he was generally the last. This was unexplored ground. As he sat thinking what to say in answer to Alfred's question, he felt Alfred's tears soaking through his shirt. He stopped thinking and instead let instinct take over. He wrapped Alfred up in his arms tightly and wiped the tears away with his thumb from the younger nations cheek. "Who told you of such things?" Arthur asked thinking that if it was France he was going to have to pay him a friendly little visit. _

_Sniffling, Alfred rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. "I over heard you talking about it with France". _

_Arthur was horrified that Alfred was upset over something he said. At least if it was France in isolation it would have been easier to sort out. He couldn't punish France; he remembered clearly that he was the one to bring up the subject._

_Pulling Alfred back into a tight embrace, he whispered; "do not concern yourself with such things Alfred". He sensed that that wasn't going to suffice, so before Alfred could disagree with him, he carried on speaking. "You won't be alone either". _

"_Really?" Alfred asked with glassy red eyes. _

"_Nope". Arthur smiled at him. "I'll be there". Alfred seemed to brighten with the concept that he wouldn't be alone. Just to add a bit of humour, Arthur added the one off comment that he would never repeat, but instead get incredibly defensive over in the future. "And you won't have to eat any of my cooking". _

_Alfred laughed before damaging Arthur's legs by jumping up to his knees and wrapping his arms around his neck. "Thanks Arthur!" Arthur was stunned by the sudden reaction but melted and once more wrapped his arms around America, smiling. "As long as your not scared, I'm not". _

Arthur's eyes flickered open as the dark shadows were once more back in the room, circling the table. The image of the young, dependent Alfred who always ran to him for help was imprinted on the inside of his eyelids. Every time he blinked he saw him.

As he waited to see what new hell they had brought for him, he felt relieved that, to his knowledge, Alfred was still safe.

Arthur had lost track of time completely as the finally released him from his bonds. He was shoved to the floor where he didn't have the energy to move or to attempt to pick himself up. He felt rough hands grip him and drag him back to his feet, his arms shoved through the sleeves of his shirt and jacket which were to remain unbuttoned.

Arthur didn't dare think to himself that it was over. Perhaps this was another trick. Something to get his hopes up so they could dash them again. As they dragged him back towards the cell to be reunited with the others, he expected any moment for them to turn on him and to beat him within an inch of his life.

The never did.

He only realised that he was back with Alfred, Ludwig and Feliciano again when he heard horrified gasps and 'steady' said by Ludwig to Feliciano. Arthur suddenly found a little strength to make his legs hold his weight as the men stopped supporting him and left, laughing and jesting to one another, pleased with their work, but a little put out that Arthur had not fallen to his knees in defeat. They were disappointed so much that one retraced his steps and struck Arthur's shoulder hard, causing a blinding light of pain behind Arthur's eyes, causing him to fall to his knees.

The laughter and cackling of the men as the left made Alfred shiver. Arthur listened for their laughter to fade before he got his feet back underneath him again and stood up as straight as his energy and body would let him.

Arthur's emerald green, but now dull eyes met Alfred's stunning blue ones as they stared at one another. Arthur's head was slightly angled down and his shoulders hunched, his arms dangling by his sides. It took too much energy, energy he didn't have, to stand up straight and proud again. Every time he moved one of his limbs, a feeling of faintness washed over him, everything going momentarily black.

Feliciano was held back by Ludwig as he attempted to move forward and see if Arthur was okay. Alfred didn't notice the little scuffle behind him, he was too horrified at Arthur's appearance to take his eyes of him. Arthur swayed on his feet. Alfred watched him as closely as his vision would allow him without giving himself a blinding headache.

"Watch him!" Ludwig shouted, alarmed.

Alfred, stunned but acting purely on instincts, caught Arthur just as his knees gave way and gently lowered him to the ground. Arthur wound up sat in his lap, his head propped up by Alfred's shoulder.

"Arthur! Arthur!" Alfred kept repeating his name as his fingers went through his still damp hair before resting the palm of his hand on Arthur's cool cheek. Arthur bit his lip hard as he tried not to cry. He could feel his eyes filling with tears and every time he blinked they threatened to over spill. Alfred placed his fingers under his chin and tilted his head up so he could see his face. Arthur had bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood, so when Alfred saw Arthur's blood stained lips and teeth, he felt his heart lurch with pain and anger.

Alfred shrugged off his jacket and, using the cuff of his shirt, wiped away the crimson blood. Arthur exhaled unsteadily as he watched Alfred tend to him. He never imagined Alfred could tend to him so … tenderly. He had always imagined that he would be something of a clumsy nurse, accidentally hurting him despite trying to help. Arthur found himself admitting to himself that he had been wrong.

Alfred quickly got rid of Arthur's unbuttoned jacket and shirt before placing his jacket around Arthur's shoulders. Arthur had to fight another wave of tears because of Alfred's tender actions towards him. He loved this jacket, and to wrap it around him while he as still wet was something he never expected.

"What did they do to you?" Alfred asked, his eyes wide as he kept discovering new and more vicious looking marks and wounds. He was horrified to think that they would scar, that they would blemish his beautifully soft, Caucasian skin. His old scars were faded; these were going to be striking to the eye for a long while to come. Alfred's fingers hovered above the wounds, not daring to touch them. "Arthur?"

Arthur remained silent. He knew if he tried to speak, he would either break down or lie, and Alfred would be able to see though his lies this time, the evidence marking his body was clear enough for anyone to see. Alfred took the silence as an admission of being the subject of torture, the receiver of a brutal, and physical violence. He brought Arthur's hand up and studied his fingers. He could tell by the hiss that Arthur gave that they were indeed painful to the touch. To his horror though, he noticed that his finger nails had been subjected to something that wasn't a manicure as they had clearly had something forced beneath them. Also, two of Arthur's fingers were dislocated. Alfred felt that he knew what he had to do and so he steadied himself to do it. He had seen enough films to know this worked … hopefully.

Arthur gasped and swallowed hard as Alfred's hands encased his own. Feliciano stood back, eyes wide with horror and having to have Ludwig support him. As Alfred applied pressure to force the fingers back into their correct place, a cracking sound was emitted. Arthur cried out in pain and Alfred fought back doubt that he was doing more harm than good. Feliciano swayed and Ludwig steadied him with a hand to the shoulder, every so often squeezing it to let Feliciano know he was still there.

When the final crack had sounded and Alfred released Arthur's hand, Arthur let a single tear glide down his cheek. Alfred didn't notice though as Arthur pressed his cheek against Alfred's shirt, allowing the pain pass.

"Thank you". He whispered, his eyes becoming heavy again. His voice sounded forced and his raw throat pained him greatly.

"What happened?" Alfred asked quietly, but feeling a raging fire growing inside of him. Who ever did this to Arthur was going to pay.

"You're okay, that's all that matters. You're okay". Arthur mumbled the last part over and over to himself as his eyes closed. "You're okay".

Alfred listened to Arthur mutterings. He felt Arthur go limp in his arms, and protectively, he tightened his embrace, trying to give Arthur as much security as possible.

"You protected me". America mumbled to himself, but Feliciano and Ludwig, who had witnessed everything, over heard. "Even now, after everything I did to you, after all the times I taunted you, tease you about your cooking … even after the war of Independence … you still protects me, placing yourself directly in the way of danger so to deflect it from me. Oh Arthur ..." Alfred buried his face into Arthur's neck and shoulder. Ludwig could see he wasn't crying, but instead an intense look of craving for vengeance was present.

He watched as Alfred continued to brush a hand through Arthur's hair, his eyes conveying his emotions; from anger to sorrow, to fear to hatred to love.

God help the men who did that to Arthur, Ludwig thought to himself. God help them.

TBC...

A/N: Anyone who has watched King Arthur will know where I got the dislocated fingers scene from. I have been dying to use that scene in my work for years! I can't die happy just yet; I have the drowning scene in the Abyss to include somehow before I can do that! ^o^


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Matthew rubbed his temples as he felt the effect of what would prove to be a splitting headache coming on. Sighing heavily, he took a gulp of diet coke, not that it had any medical properties even though Alfred would insist that it did, before diving back into the deluge of confusion that was the root cause of his pain.

Matthew had spent the past five hours of his existence in his office being yelled at down the phone, damaging his sanity and plotting his brothers demise if this all turned out to be a joke, or as Francis phrased it, they had simply … 'hooked up'. If it was all down to a drained phone battery, Matthew was willing to tell Cuba where Alfred lived and hand him a lighter and a tank of gasoline.

Another sigh escaped his lips as he picked up the phone again for the millionth time. It chime was not helping his poor head.

"Monsieur Matthew. Have you found our friends who don't want to be found?" Francis spoke, his voice clearly smug. Matthew could tell he was smirking over the other end of the line, but Francis had phoned him and not the other way around so he wasn't about to insult the one and only person who had phoned him in the past month. The only other times he could remember someone phoning him were vague and drawn out. Arthur had called many months back to say happy birthday; Alfred before that to ask him to play baseball (and that was only because Arthur had told him that he was going to stick that bat where the sun didn't shine if he came anywhere near him with it and launching into an argument over which of the two nations invented baseball) and Prussia who did a fantastic job of creeping him out no end.

"No". Matthew closed his eyes and rested his head in his hand. He didn't have it in him to insult or raise his voice above normal talking volume anyway. "I have found some things out though".

"Oh?" Francis asked as he took sip of wine. He was reclining on his sofa, thinking how much better the world would be if everyone just made love and drank wine. "Like what?"

"Well ..." Matthew picked up the paper he had written everything down on just to make sure he missed nothing out. "I called Alfred's house keeper. After distinguishing who I was, I found out that Alfred left for the airport on time. I phoned the airport to see if he made his flight".

"I take it he didn't". Francis said, cutting Matthew off. "Other wise you wouldn't have such a serious tone to your voice, mon ami".

"Yeah, he never made it". Matthew confirmed. "I phoned Arthur's and this time it was slightly different. He never made it out the front door. His place was a mess. His house keeper was freaking out when I rang. Poor soul only goes in once a week".

"What?" France asked spitting wine out. "Are you insinuating that Arthur lost a fight?"

"Err … yes". Matthew just admitted what he was thinking. He was genuinely surprised though when France caught on to his wave length that fast though.

"Monsieur, I do find that hard to believe. I have known Arthur a long time and I have seen him make grown men tremble and weep, and that was before he raised his fists". A small chuckle was emitted.

_I remember a fair few stories about Arthur making you weep and wet yourself. He never raised a __fist there either_. Matthew thought to himself without voicing it. He needed France on side as he was the only one who had listened to him so far. All the other nations had continued to mistake him for Alfred, and to add insult to injury, they had patted his shoulder in congratulations for 'taming' Arthur. More than a little embarrassing for Matthew even though France thought it was funny. Francis' way of thinking proved to be contagious among the other nations. Matthew would have begun to question if he was being paranoid about everything had he not made the calls he had.

"I also phoned Germany. Italy was with him when they both went missing. Again, I got one hysterical house keeper screeching down the phone at me".

"Wrong place wrong time my dear Matthew". Francis joked, but in his mind he was suddenly worried. With Italy aside, three physically able nations were missing, and the state of their residences set off too many warning alarms, lights and flashes to be ignored.

"I think they were kidnapped". Matthew waited tensely for France's reply.

France practically leapt of the sofa, his eyes everywhere and the wine spilling and staining the carpet. Three nations who could physically defend themselves had been attacked and over powered … where did that leave him?

"So … what do we do?" Francis asked as he tip toed across his living room, snatching up a croissant from the side and hold it above his head, a wild look in his eyes. _Tip toe, petal; tip toe. _He thought to himself over and over as he nearly crushed the phone in his hand and launched himself behind the sofa, believing someone to be there. Matthew could hear a crash and a poor attempt at a fight going on down the other end of the line.

"Francis?"

"I'm okay … just fighting with some dust bunnies is all". Francis gasped as he climbed back over the sofa, pouting when he realised that some of the spilt wine went on his beautiful purple uniform.

"Oh". Matthew replied, trying to think of something to say. "You alright?"

"Yeah, they lost". Francis said breathing heavy.

_Sounds like your prides hurt though. I question if you won at all. Sounds more like a tactical withdrawal. _Matthew thought to himself but again not voicing it.

"And don't think that I withdrew!"

"What?" Matthew was caught of guard.

"I know Arthur had some influence over you". Francis seemed to be getting upset and extremely agitated. Matthew had to pull his phone away from his ear as the Frenchman started squawking that he wasn't a military failure, no matter what England said. "England's malicious!" He cried in frustration. "He's jealous that he can't cook like I can!"

"Okay okay!" Matthew shot back, horrified at how fast France's attitude had deteriorated. "I believe you! I believe you!"

"Really?" France sniffled.

"Yeah". Matthew looked down on the polar bear sat in his lap and rolled his eyes. The polar bear looked up with a questioning look as to who he was before resting his head back on his jean clad legs again. Matthew felt saddened by this.

"Okay!" France immediately picked up. "Hooked up or not! We shall hunt those love sick nations down, captive by the forces of evil or by the bonds of _looovvveee"_.

"I agree we must find them, though just bursting in if they are together is not something they would forgive us for". Canada said, blocking any images that might have come to mind otherwise.

"For this, the finest minds must be put into action. I shall come and stay with you so we can solve this case in a gentlemanly, yet sexy style".

"O … okay". Matthew was stunned. Normally a person would be upset if someone just 'invited' themselves to stay with them and bleed them dry of food, but Matthew, since he was the invisible nation, would not pass up an opportunity to have visitors.

"EXCELLENT! I'll be on the next flight!" With that, France's side of the phone went dead and Matthew was left pondering what the hell had just happened, his face a picture perfect example of 'OMG – WTF'.

"I may just regret this". He spoke softly to himself as his hands fell limp by his sides, exhaustion making his limbs feel like lead weights. "Maybe five minutes sleep". He muttered to himself as he wrapped his arms around Kumajirou and rested his head on his desk. "Just five".

A/N: HALF TERM! NO EXAMS! I would say party at mine but I can't afford the alcohol, the food, or the damage for that matter. ^o^


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Arthur groaned as he came round, his muscles screaming out in protest against each movement he made, no matter how small or trivial the movement was. Even his lungs hurt, his trachea burning, making it painful to breath.

With eyes half hooded, he looked around, a satisfying warmth making him protest even waking up and his head resting against something that he was finding intensely comfortable. A small sigh escaped his lips as he closed his eyes again, ready to go back to sleep, when he felt fingers gently cup his chin and turn his head up. Arthur opened his eyes again to find himself looking into deep blue one. There was a lot of worry and concern in those eyes and, if Arthur had just a little more strength, he would have gasped at it. Alfred's concern wasn't fake, a selfish play put on to butter him up to get something; no, this was genuine.

"Alfred". Arthur croaked, setting his throat on fire. He felt a hand go through his hair as he heard the whispered reply.

"Arthur".

Alfred's hand came to rest lightly on his cheek, keeping Arthur's head resting on his shoulder, his thumb caressing his still cool, ashen skin. Arthur didn't have enough energy to neither blush, nor fight to get away from the contact. "Twat". He sighed, closing his eyes and enjoying Alfred's gentle gestures. Strong arms enclosed him, making him realise that he was still in Alfred's jacket. He was in a warm, protective cocoon; he had no intention on moving, nor did he have any intention of loosing the calm, collected, quiet America who was acting very surreal when compared to his normal self.

Alfred was finding it hard to believe that Arthur wasn't putting up a fight to escape from his grasp. After all the years he had known the man, he was expecting a little something to constitute a struggle. Arthur had never been one to wear his heart on his sleeve.

Arthur flexed his fingers delicately, his nose twitching with the dull ache they produced. Alfred watched Arthur gaze at his finger's silently, resting his chin on Arthur's head with his lips pressed firmly together, his hand falling from Arthur's cheek to rest on his shoulder.

Arthur could hear the dull, distant thud of Alfred's heart through his clothes and for some reason he found it relaxing. When he thought about it though; he found it relaxing because it was a constant, strong heart beat symbolising Alfred still hadn't been submitted to what he had been. A small smile crept across his face.

Turning his head, Arthur looked at Feliciano and Ludwig who were laid not to far away, both in a sleep that was far from fulfilling, the cold, stone floor not helping them in the slightest. Ludwig had given his jacket to Feliciano in an attempt to give him a little additional comfort.

"They're an item". Alfred said, his voice distant.

"Oh". Arthur whispered, his eyes never leaving the sleeping men, drinking in their appearances and their body language. He could tell Alfred wasn't lying, making up stories to distract his mind; the body language of the sleeping couple said everything.

But this sent Arthur's mind into over drive despite the tired, couldn't care less expression he wore. He was reminded that he hadn't been this close to Alfred for centuries; the very nation responsible for not just breaking, but shattering his heart. Now however, Alfred showed no sign of letting him out of his grasp and sight, his gestures positively dripping with affection. Arthur was being reminded of memories he found excruciatingly painful from Alfred's childhood. Alfred's smile was always the worst though. It wasn't that daft, goofy grin that he had plastered across his face at meetings, or when he discovered McDonald's had a new burger the size of a house out; no, the smile that still tore at Arthur was the genuine, love filled one that was only for him. He hadn't seen that smile in centuries. He suddenly felt the need to get away from Alfred.

His movements awoke Alfred from his doze, making him slightly confused and disorientated. Arthur's movements were painfully lethargic and Alfred had no trouble in winning the struggle.

"Let me go, twat". Arthur moaned as his head rolled back on his neck.

"You haven't the energy". Alfred argued. "Stop struggling Iggy".

"Don't call me Iggy". Arthur murmured as he fell still in Alfred's arms again, resigning himself to the fact that he wouldn't break free from Alfred's grasp in his current condition. Arthur felt like a rag doll to Alfred as he looked at his old father figure laid limp in his arms, his eyes barely open.

"Ig … Arthur?" Alfred asked, concern lacing his voice as he gave Arthur a little shake.

"I'll be fine". Arthur breathed. "Justalilloutaengy".

Alfred saw that Arthur was having trouble holding his head up as Arthur rolled his head to the side and rested it in the crook of his arm. '_Christ Arthur … what did they do to you. Under no other circumstance would you have given up in a fight, not to mention rest in my arms; not even when you're ill'. _As he looked down on Arthur, he saw that his eyes were still half open, his breathing heavy after his attempts to get away. He had an expression of exhaustion and defeat.

Both lapsed into complete quiet until footsteps could be heard approaching. Alfred instantly woke up while Arthur's eyes shot open, a lightening bolt of terror going through him. Not again. Not so soon!

Arthur felt Alfred stir beneath him and started to pray. He wasn't a religious man, but now seemed a good time as any to see if any supreme deity was there.

Alfred propped Arthur up against the wall as he heard foot falls becoming louder as they approached the cell. Arthur looked up at him after trying to stand. He remained seated because of a firm hand on his shoulder. He saw a look of pure hatred on Alfred's face; one that scared him.

"Please Al … they'll kill you". Arthur breathed, desperation starting to claw at him as he realised that Alfred had plans on attacking the men. Alfred paid no attention to him and continued to stare at the door of the cell waiting. "Alfred, please!" Arthur ground out. "Live today, fight tomorrow".

Only one man appeared in front of the cell door and opened it (much to Alfred's surprise; he was expecting more than one man to show up). Alfred moved towards him but froze when he realised there he was pointing a gun at Arthur. He held his breath as he watched the gun steadily.

"Pick him up". The man in the balaclava said to Alfred, motioning to Arthur with his other hand. Alfred glared for several seconds before complying. He lifted Arthur from the floor but found Arthur unwilling to be carried bridal style or at all for that matter while he was conscious. A compromise was reached fast though and Arthur settled to be held up by Alfred placing an arm around his waist. With how fast Alfred walked though, Arthur was practically dragged, the tips of his feet occasionally scrapping the ground.

The man with the gun walked behind them, his gun always pointing at Arthur to keep Alfred in line. He told Alfred which way to go and Alfred, for Arthur's sake, did as he was told.

Eventually, they reached another cell; a much more darker one with the sound of dripping water echoing everywhere. Another man clad in black was waiting for them, this one built like an oak door and most likely just as thick. Arthur recognised him from their first meeting. Before Alfred could react, he had ripped Arthur from his grasp and chucked him into the cell as though he weighed nothing. Arthur's head impacting the ground and the gasp that followed it sent shivers up Alfred spine. He was desperate to help Arthur, but the gun was now trained on him.

Alfred was shoved in after, the sound of the cell door creaking shut behind him coming second to Arthur. He helped prop Arthur up against the wall again who was constantly glaring at the mocking figures who remained stood outside the cell. Arthur always found just a little more strength in some obscure place when it came to defying. Blood trickled down the side of his face from a gash in his head from the impact. However, Alfred was now looking at the corner of the cell, trying to put on a brave face, but his eyes were giving away the panic and hysteria that laid beneath.

He thought he was seeing ghosts.

His composure was faltering and his breathing became much, much heavier. The two men continued to stand and watch until they saw something amusing. Alfred's eyes were wild with terror as he began to shriek, pressing himself up against the wall, covering his face with his hands. Arthur watched horrified. They knew. They must do. They must have known that Alfred was terrified of ghosts and situations that resemble the horror films that terrified him so. How else would they have known to exploit (which to Arthur was just about as low as a person could go) such a child like fear. Arthur couldn't believe how fast Alfred crumbled from being the proud, unflinching hero back into the child who used to run crying to him in the middle of the night when some obscure shadow in the depths of the night caught his eye.

The two men laughed hysterically before walking away; loving how they had reduced the almighty America to a shrieking, crying mass.

"Alfred … come here". Alfred looked down at Arthur, his cheeks tear stained and his blue eyes turning red before launching himself to Arthur's side, burying his head into his bomber jacket, muffled sobs being the only sound emitted. Arthur used what he knew to be the definite last shards of energy he had in an attempt to comfort. He rose his hand and slowly rubbed small circles on Alfred back, between his shoulder blades, just like he had done when Alfred was a child. After a few minutes Alfred began to calm down. A few minutes after that Arthur stopped as his hand fell to his side.

"Arthur". Alfred whimpered into his neck, clinging to him tightly. Arthur had fallen asleep, his chin resting on Alfred's shoulder, the very last of his energy drained. "Arthur?" Alfred looked up.

"ARTHUR!" He shriek, shaking Arthur desperately. Arthur didn't respond to Alfred's pleads for him to wake up. For a moment Alfred thought Arthur had dropped dead on him, but when he felt Arthur's breath on his skin as he searched for a pulse, he felt a little relief.

Trembling, Alfred curled up against Arthur, taking small comfort with Arthur's close presence, even if he wasn't awake to comfort him personally.

A/N: I watched a program a few months back and it said that it is in the realms of possibility that certain frequencies can make a person think that they are seeing ghosts, spirits as well as make them think that where they are is a haunted area. So I took it upon myself to use this new found info for my story. I'm doing what they did in the Book of Eli, giving you hints at what is going on, (like the film did with the trembling hands thing) but letting you work it out. Then I thought it would be mean and really stupid not to explain my self in a little note so here is my little note explaining myself. Anyway – I hope you liked my latest update and there is way, way more Ludwig and Feliciano coming up!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

_Canada was sat swinging his legs contently over the edge of the bench as he watched Alfred climbing one of the many trees in Arthur's garden. It was spring and the blossom was out on the plants and trees. The smell of spring was in the air and Matthew had always loved the smell of the British spring; he loved to watch the Sparrows and Green Finches flitting around in the trees and was amused by the squawking of these birds as America tried to grab them, side tracking from his original mission of attempting to get to the top of the tree. However, Matthew defiantly remembered that a squirrel was part of the reason that Alfred was in the tree to begin with. _

_As Matthew sat swinging his legs, Arthur appeared beside him. "Matthew, can I …?" He said with a smile, motioning with his hand (the other being in his pocket) towards the vacant seat next to Matthew. _

"_Err .. yeah, sure". Matthew replied with a delicate smile on his face. Arthur sat down next to him and watched Alfred jumping from branch to branch like a monkey between all the new leaves and blossom. _

_Both Arthur and Matthew sat in silence, admiring the beauty that the day had produced for them._

"_Arthur?" Matthew asked nervously, breaking the silence and hugging the polar bear Arthur could never remember the name of to his chest. "Can I ask you something?" _

"_Sure Matthew". _

"_What's a hero?" _

_Arthur thought about the question for a few moments before pulling Matthew on to his lap to answer his question. "Well … a hero does good deeds, but doesn't feel the need to tell others or expect anything in return. They do it quietly, and don't want rewards or praise or attention for it. They do it because they know it's the right thing to do". Arthur answered, playing absent mindedly with blonde strands of Matthew's hair, the tickling sensation from the gentle gesture making the Canadian smile. His nerves evaporated. _

"_What actions are heroic?" He asked as a cool breeze brought the smell of cherry blossom to his attention._

"_I think the term hero is used too often and therefore has lost it's meaning". Arthur replied. "Actions that people appreciate though are when you help them when they're in trouble. People remember when complete strangers help them; when they just appear and then disappear. People don't expect the help, but when it comes they truly appreciate it. You never know, one day the person who was helped might be able to return the favour". _

"_You help people who need help Arthur?" Matthew looked up at him with large, questioning orbs. _

"_Yeah, suppose I do". Arthur smiled at him and ruffled his hair with his hand. "What brought on this line on questioning?" _

"_Nothing". Matthew replied before hugging Arthur with his free arm. Arthur's cheeks tinted pink with the affection not normally shown to him by the Canadian. He hugged Matthew back, his face lit up with contentment. He had gone from being extremely lonely, to having Alfred to raise and Matthew occasionally dropped on him to babysit by a very inconsiderate Frenchman who's heart though was in the right place, though at times questionable. Also, with Alfred's energy levels, Matthew was a welcome break. He sat still for longer than three seconds, he was quiet and he was affectionate. Alfred was affectionate, but only when it suited him. _

"_Arthur look at me!" Alfred bellowed from the top of the tree, perched on a single branch with only one foot. _

"_Be careful Alfred, and don't fall". Arthur shouted back. _

"_Okay!" Alfred called back before diving back into the tree again to disturb more birds. Arthur, listening to the sound of agitated birds and other wildlife that Alfred was probably giving heart attacks too, felt quite sorry for them. He knew Alfred meant no harm, but who said the birds knew that? _

"_I love visiting you, Arthur". Matthew said completely out of the blue. "I wish papa Francis would let me come more often". _

"_I can have a word with him if you want?" Arthur replied. _

"_Really?" Matthew said excitedly. "You can do that?" _

"_Yeah, but only if you want me to". _

"_Oh please do that!" Matthew shouted in excitement, his voice just above his normal talking level as his eyes lit up with excitement. Arthur loved to see Matthew smile. He was such a kind, gentle creature it was hard to believe he was related to Alfred at all some times. _

_Before Arthur could answer, an almighty "ARTHUR!" came from the tree. Arthur removed Matthew from his lap before sprinting over to the tree where Alfred was hanging by a single hand. Matthew remained on the bench and watched. Arthur had to stand on tip toe and he still couldn't reach the small nation far above his head. He resorted to the famous 'hang on' line before climbing into the tree himself. _

_Matthew sat and watched the antics that was going on as though it was a show put on specially for entertainment. Remembering Arthur's words though, he found himself thinking about them as Arthur grabbed Alfred's arm and dragged him back into the tree. _

_'Arthur is Alfred's hero'. _

Matthew woke with a start as a hand on his shoulder was shaking him gently. "Mon ami?"

Matthew looked over his shoulder to where the voice was coming from. His vision was blurred for the first several seconds; the colour gold filling his vision completely with some fuzzy purple down the bottom. Rubbing his eyes and yawning, Matthew took a second look and saw Francis with his head tilted to one side.

"Coffee, mon ami?_" _France asked with an amused smile. "You look like you need it".

"Please". Matthew yawned again, thinking to himself how much of a bad idea it was to go to sleep with his head resting on his desk. His back and neck both hurt.

"Maple syrup?"

"Oui". Matthew nodded as he started to smile, but the dream still present on his mind made the smile falter. Francis left the study to go make some coffee for them, leaving Matthew to silently wonder if his dream had anything to do with the situation that the four nations were now facing.

TBC...

A/N: I'm afraid it's going to be just over a week before I can update again. Half term ending equals more exams for me. If it upsets you so much (which I don't see happening ^o^), complain to AQA.

Also, i'm not sure Canada would be that attached to Arthur, but considering how much the English love the Canadian's, I kinda figured I could get away with it.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Feliciano felt a burning sensation creeping up his throat from his chest.

He laid staring up at the ceiling, his hand massaging his throat as he felt something fluttering in his chest. His head was splitting with pain and he had a persistent chesty cough. Feeling yet another build up of pressure in his chest, he rolled onto his side and coughed harshly into his arm so not to wake Ludwig.

Eyes watering, he groaned as he pulled his head away from his arm. Sighing breathlessly, Feliciano curled up against Ludwig in an attempt to comfort himself. He thought he had done it without waking the German, but found himself mistaken when Ludwig encased him with his arms and, pulling him close, whispering; "Something wrong?"

Feliciano coughed lightly in response, followed by a light sniffle. Ludwig pulled back to study the ever increasingly frail Italian. He was still as cold as he was at the beginning of the ordeal; but now he looked positively sick, his chocolate brown eyes sorrowful.

Before Ludwig could say anything to remove some of that sorrow from Feliciano's eyes, the Italian started coughing harshly again, his body convulsing as the pressure in his chest progressively got worse. Ludwig dragged Feliciano from his curled up position on the floor in an attempt to ease the hacking his love was doing.

Heart in throat, Ludwig did all he could think off to ease the pain. He realised what discomfort the Italian was in as his hands had gone to his mouth as he doubled over, his eyes watering with both pain and effort. When Feliciano stopped and took several steady breaths, Ludwig sat waiting for a relapse; for Feliciano to feel his body punishing him once more by starting the painful actions all over again. Fortunately, that did not happen.

Pressed an ear to Feliciano's chest to listen to his breathing, Ludwig could hear that it was anything but normal sounding. Taking the Italian back in his arms, he encouraged the Italian to get as comfy as he possibly could and nursed him back to sleep. Ludwig remained awake, his mind racing with too many thought. His dear Feliciano coming down with a chest infection in a damp, cold cell with no doctors or hospitals on hand while Arthur and Alfred had been taken while they slept. The concept that Feliciano could be taken while he slept both angered and horrified him. Unconsciously tightening his hold around the Italian, Ludwig once again, after what seemed like an eternity, drifted off into a restless sleep.

A short time later Alfred and Arthur were brought back.

Alfred was shoved in while Arthur was thrown in, both landing hard on the floor. Arthur, recently woken up, was still hazy as to where he was. All he knew for certain was that Alfred was there, the situation was not good and he had dried blood down the side of his face that had also clumped and turned some of his blonde hair red.

Alfred gave a small whimper (that he would later deny) as he got his arms beneath him. Arthur heard it and his heart did a somersault with worry. The worry also woke him up some more, the adrenaline rush he experienced chasing some more of the sleep and the haze that clouded his mind away.

With the helpful boost from the adrenaline, he pushed himself onto one arm, his free hand going to his head. Alfred had given up trying to get back up and settled for resting a little before trying again. With that decision, he remained on the floor, resting his head on his arm. Alfred defied sleep for as long as he could before his eyes finally closed and he drifted off. Arthur watched him, wishing he could so something to ease his torment further and, remembering what he had on, took the bomber jacket off and placed it over Alfred, tucking it in by his sides. Kneeling over him, Arthur could not help but brush aside some of Alfred's hair from his forehead before kissing it lightly. "Sleep. Nothing can harm you in sleep".

Withdrawing, Arthur drew in a pain filled breath through gritting teeth as he put on his wet, cold shirt again to cover his now bare torso. He grimaced before he pushed his arms through the sleeves of his near frozen jacket and slowly lowered himself to the ground. He sighed heavily as he felt the cold from the floor seeping through his joints and he shifted uncomfortably.

Arthur listened to all the snoring that filled the cell and, oddly enough, it relaxed him to the point that his eyes were closing also, but just as he was falling into a light doze the door creaked open and four dishes were dropped in. Arthur watched out the corner of his eye, not moving, hoping that they wouldn't notice that he was awake, but instead asleep like everyone else. They didn't, and the odd chuckle reached his ears as they commented how defeated they all looked. Arthur didn't need to see that he looked run down and ill; he already felt it.

Arthur found himself studying his hands as the door creaked closed. His nails looked as though they were at some stage going to fall out, all of them had turned blue and purple as blood had seeped and remained trapped underneath them. Not being able to stand the sight of his tortured hands any more, he then turned his attention towards Alfred, his eyes drinking in the pitiful appearance.

"England?"

Arthur turned his attention to the German accented voice. Ludwig was sat up straight and watching him steadily having previously untangled himself from Feliciano. Arthur watched Ludwig's eyes travel from him, to Alfred, to Feliciano, to the food, then back to him.

Sparing Alfred one last look, Arthur slowly made his way towards the four, half filled bowls and tipped one bowl into another, making the second bowl's contents look a little healthier in terms of size. Ludwig watched fascinated before moving forward and copying. Arthur gave him a small, tired smile before moving back to where he was originally sat and placing the empty bowl there. He then moved to Alfred's side, just as Ludwig was doing the same with Feliciano, and shook his shoulder lightly. Alfred groaned as sleep left him, his eyes focusing on Arthur as he knelt next to him.

"What is it?" He gave a mutter.

"Food". Arthur replied and was delighted inside at how fast Alfred sat up, making him resemble his normal self again. Arthur handed him the bowl and, despite the faces Alfred pulled, he did start to eat it.

"Can't stand porridge". Alfred chuntered. "Why can't they serve something more nutritious, like burgers or something?" Arthur gave him a small smile but no answer. "Why aren't you eating?" Alfred asked.

"Already have". Arthur motioned his head to the empty bowl not too far away.

"Oh. Okay". Alfred continued to eat. "Suppose you like porridge".

"Errm?" Arthur realised after several seconds that he was hearing what Alfred was saying, but he wasn't registering the meaning behind the words. He was falling asleep again, but this time with his eyes open.

"I said you like porridge". Alfred replied. "You fed it to me practically every day along with that fowl tea you insist on drinking".

Normally Arthur would have bitten back with some malicious comment concerning Alfred's heart attack meals and the tooth rotter that he drank everyday, including at meetings when he was trying to speak, but the insults died as soon as he thought of them. He couldn't bring himself to get angry with him. Besides, Alfred looked as solemn as he felt.

Arthur could feel his hunger eating away at him and repressed the best he could any sound that he was in discomfort from no food. It would have given away what he and Ludwig had just done.

His eyes straying from Alfred, Arthur watched Ludwig tend to Feliciano to the best of his abilities. Arthur had known Ludwig long enough to know that he had an issue with showing emotions, more so than himself, and that was saying something. But still, watching Feliciano smiling weakly at Ludwig as he tended to him affectionately, Arthur found himself wondering when he would be able to feel confident enough to show any loving gestures towards Alfred. If Ludwig could do it, so could he, but it was never as simple as that. It was always simpler to say it than to do. He also had a problem with embarrassment.

Arthur shook his head gently. Alfred was tactless. Even if he blurted out the three words, Alfred would either brag about it, or spread it around the other nations and every burger seller in the northern states – maybe he would do both.

He was torn from his line of thought as Feliciano took his first bite.

"YUCK!"

"I'm not the only one then". Alfred chuntered to himself, not looking up.

Ludwig spared Arthur a glance before Feliciano started to cough hard, making Ludwig think he was trying to cough up his lungs. Not knowing what would be the best to do, he settled for hitting the Italian on the back, hoping to do some good. After a minute the coughing stopped and Ludwig let out a breath that until that moment he wasn't aware that he was holding. Alfred had looked up briefly, choosing to remain silent. Arthur took that as a sign that he wasn't just hungry, but he was starving. Alfred had never eaten a meal so silently before and Arthur duly noted this as he rested once more against the wall.

Ludwig succeeded in getting Feliciano to eat the sparse food while being silently grateful that Feliciano had not brought up any blood when he was coughing his throat raw. Small blessings were increasingly hard to find though.

Without warning though, Feliciano practically climbed into his lap and, wrapping his arms around the German, gave a small sigh of approval and fell asleep, his head resting against the German's chest. Ludwig was starting to get a hang on affectionate gestures as he wrapped his arms around the Italian to keep him safe.

Alfred had watched the scene since he had finished the food. He couldn't physically tear his eyes away. Arthur had long since stopped looking, feeling uncomfortable. Alfred turned to look at him to find that his eyes were closed, possibly asleep. Thinking that Arthur was asleep, Alfred crawled to Arthur's side and rested against him. He had never thought that Earl Grey and Bergamot would smell so good to him as it did then.

Arthur's eyes shot open with the contact but any thoughts of pushing the American away vanished as he saw how young Alfred looked as he look up at him through wide blue orbs. Arthur felt a smile pull at his lips as Alfred rested his head in his lap, the feeling of food in his stomach making him drowsy, very much unlike Arthur who's hunger was keeping him wide awake. Resting a hand on Alfred's shoulder, Arthur was stunned by the unusual request that he had not heard for centuries.

"Tell me a story Iggy".

"I … errr ..." Arthur stuttered, trying to think of one. When he looked back down though, titles of good stories still avoiding him, he found the search would prove to be useless as Alfred had fallen asleep.

Arthur began wishing and hoping someone had noticed their absence by now.

A/N: EXAMS ARE OVER! ~*~ thank god ~*~ Can I get a _**fail**_ over here please?

My aim is to finish this before I go to Hong Kong for six weeks. I don't think I shall be updating in that time. I'll be sight seeing or sleeping. ^o^ Hahaha. But now I'm off for a drink of tea – Earl Grey and Bergamot! (I stash boxes of tea in my wardrobe – many boxes - keep it quiet though). ^_^


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"YOU DID WHAT!" Matthew shrieked (not very loudly mind you) at Francis as Gilbert cornered him against the kitchen counter, making the counter press painfully against his back as he continued trying to back into it in an effort to get away from the Prussian. "GET AWAY FROM ME YOU SEXUAL DEVIANT!" He screeched, his voice three times higher than it should be.

"Now that's not very nice now is it Mattie". Gilbert smirked evilly. Matthew was silently wishing that Kumajirou would grow fangs five feet in length and would maul Gilbert for him. That or morph into Vlad the Impaler for a short while, though that might not be constructive for his own well being in the long run.

"I phoned the other nations". Francis replied, a smug smile on his face, sipping not coffee, but cheap plonk in a wine glass. He had already complained bitterly and chewed Gilbert's ear off about the fact he couldn't find anything with more class in the Canadian airport shops. "I have dear Monsieur Roderich on speed dial". The seductive tone in his voice made the Canadian and Prussian look at him after giving each other brief quizzical looks, both suddenly worried about the Austrian aristocrat.

"Sleep with anybody". Gilbert laughed.

"Slept with you".

"NO YOU DID NOT!" Gilbert blasted as he spun on the Frenchman. Matthew took the opportunity to put the kitchen table between himself and the bickering nations.

"You can not harm me Gilbert, for I have the shield of _amour"._Francis smiled as he rolled a strand of his own blonde hair between his fingers while a rose had somehow materialised in his other hand replacing the wine glass. Gilbert was about to unleash hell on him but Matthew, from his position of relative safety (being next to the door as he attempted to get out the room, inch by inch) reminded them that he liked his kitchen, and his insurance company would not pay out because an angry Prussian went mad and turned a tea cup into a deadly missile. He didn't put it past Gilbert to put it through the wall – or walls.

"Fine". Gilbert huffed. "I'll get you later!"

_'What is Gilbert doing here anyway, especially so soon? Oh God! He's stalking me!'_

"Going back to the main issue," Matthew tried to steer the conversation back on track as well as distracting himself from that rather disturbing thought, "how many nations did you call?"

"The ones that I have the number of". Francis replied.

"So how many are going to descend on my house?" Matthew was dreading the answer to this one.

"Let me think; I called Finland, Greece, Austria, Hungary, Sealand, China, Japan, Spain, South Italy, Ukraine, Lithuania, Latvia, Russia ..."

"You told Russia where I live!" Matthew shrieked again.

"Google maps". France smirked. "Where you going?"

"Estate agents". Matthew replied, horrified that Russia, Ivan the Terrible mark two, knew where he lived. Damn right he was going to move, and he was going to move more than just down the road.

"It's not that bad". Francis replied, waving off all concern with a brief flick of his hand.

"Does Ivan know where you live?" Gilbert smirked, his blood red eyes shining with amusement.

"No, but that's besides the point". Francis continued to smile but now began to feel very uncomfortable.

"No it's not". Gilbert shot back. "Do you want him turning up on your door step, asking 'You want to become one with Russia, da?'"

"You won't tell him". Francis said with an air of undeserved confidence, considering he was talking to Gilbert.

"Oh? And why is that?" Gilbert drew out his words and laced them with sarcasm. Matthew kept sparing the front door, which he could see from the kitchen door, glances as he expected Ivan to show up any second.

"Because you're a descent person". Francis took a stab in the dark, secretly knowing it would not pay off, but he could still hope.

"Pfft. What world you live in?"

"Err, fellas? Have I become invisible again?" Matthew waved his hand violently while frowning for effect.

"Sorry gorgeous". Gilbert said making Matthew blush, his cheeks now red enough to challenge one of Spain's tomatoes. "Dealing with a nat".

"Pardon, mon ami?" Francis looked upset by the name. "Talking to you is like talking to Arthur!"

"What do you mean by Francis is a nat?" Matthew questioned, not sure if he should laugh or be insulted himself.

"Rampaging elephant stamps on irritating nat". Gilbert mimicked the action with his foot, stamping it hard on the floor twice before twisting it, acting as though he was grinding something unpleasant into the dirt. Francis paled whilst Matthew still did not know whether or not to laugh.

"Excuse me". Matthew interjected again, hoping for a little more success this time. "We have four nations missing, the rest are descending on my house which could be an hour from now or several, and we must provide a united front in what we do, not have differences dividing us".

"Young Matthew is right". Francis said, before adding, "I raised you well".

"Pfft". Gilbert showed his distaste concerning the comment, but took it no further.

"Francis …"

"Dad". Francis corrected.

"Dad ..." Matthew corrected himself.

"Someone gag me". Gilbert chuntered before mooching around the kitchen.

"Why have you got Sealand's number on your mobile phone?" Matthew continued on as though Gilbert wasn't chuntering to himself and currently raiding his cupboards.

"Where you keep the bloody beer round here!" Gilbert slammed the fridge door harder than it needed to be.

"Alfred drank it all the last time he visited".

"And when was this?" Gilbert asked.

"Well over a year ago". Matthew smiled innocently. "If I knew you were coming I would have gone to the shop".

"Good job your cute, or else I would be really angry". Gilbert stated.

"Would you please stop sexually harassing my son?" Francis decided to take the moral high ground.

"Rich". The Prussian sneered.

"When are the other nations going to get here?" Matthew tried desperately one last time to make the conversation go the way that would hopefully lead to productivity.

"Oh, quite soon. I should think the first one should be here within the hour". Francis replied while glaring at Prussia who had just downed an entire bottle of cheap plonk in practically one gulp. "Barbarian". He muttered to himself.

Matthew finally found himself to be brave enough to move back over to the kitchen counter and retrieve his now cold coffee with maple syrup in it. It still tasted alright though.

Matthew, deciding he needed a sit down, moved from the kitchen to the living room, unconsciously flicking on the big, over head light before dropping lifelessly into a chair, all too aware that Gilbert had followed him. Francis, as consequence, had followed also.

_'Can I get a break please!'_

Gilbert practically sat down in his lap, causing Matthew to give a yelp in surprise before Francis hauled him off by the collar of his lavender shirt.

_'I'm going to cry. I just know it. This is insane. I'm surrounded by incompetence'. _Matthew looked like the picture perfect example of pity. The dictionary definition should have had a picture of his face at that moment next to it.

"Try not to start a war". He moaned.

Gilbert rearranged himself so he was sat opposite Matthew and Francis (who had perched on the chair arm), actually taking into consideration what Matthew had said about not starting a war. He knew he no longer had a nation, hence no army, but he still believed one hundred percent that he could beat France hands down. Also, there was a first time for everything.

"Can we please stop digressing". Matthew pleaded. "Four nations are missing; one being your brother,' Matthew pointed to Gilbert, 'and two others being my brother and his former father figure. Francis, how would you feel if something happened to you and I did nothing? It would hurt. You would feel betrayed. Well, by sitting here bickering, that's exactly what we're doing. We're betraying them! Please, for their sakes, put aside your differences till this is over so we can get them back".

Francis had fallen deathly quiet, something playing on his mind that Matthew could not find out without asking directly as to what he was thinking. Gilbert flexed his fingers, himself also deep in thought. Matthew put it down to his worry for his younger brother. Matthew let them sit in silence for a few minutes, realising that he had finally got the result he had wanted all along; for others to consider the concept that what might have happened to the four nations might not be as straight forward as they believed it to be.

Gilbert stood up. "I'm going to buy some beer. I'm nicking your bank card and your car keys". With that he left the room, his eyes not drifting towards Matthew but remaining focused directly ahead.

_'My words didn't do the just the job; they've hurt Prussia and France'. _The thought upsetting Matthew. He didn't mean to upset them both; he just wanted others to take the issue seriously enough to have a civil conversation without name calling and bitching.

Looking over to Francis, Matthew saw that there were tears in his eyes. "Fran … dad?" Matthew corrected himself as rested an arm on the Frenchman's knee.

"I'm fine". Francis waved him off as he blinked back tears and swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. "I … I just … can't believe how fast the day has flown". Complete topic change.

Matthew, for the first time, noticed that it was growing incredibly dark outside. No moon, no stars, no nothing. Just what little artificial light that could be seen lighting up the clouds from the nearby population centre.

"Gilbert is going to have a hard time finding a shop that's open at this time of night". He commented to himself as he reached over and switched a small reading lamp on. Looking back to his old father figure, Matthew wanted to ask what was bothering him. Something clearly was; but Matthew was having a hard time in his head phrasing it out and making it seem that he cared but didn't have any intention on pressuring him to blurt it out as though it was nothing.

With words failing him and Francis believing that if he tried to speak he would start to cry, both sat in silence for several minutes.

Matthew, firstly, sat and contemplated what sort of predicament his brother could be having to face at that time. His imagination didn't need much time before it produced results he didn't like. After that short spell, cut even shorter by Matthew turning his thoughts to something different because what his imagination was showing him disturbed him greatly, he finally get up the courage to ask Francis what was playing havoc with his mind and conscience when, suddenly, the lights went out.

A/N: I could not help but put Gilbert back into this. I just had too! He's too awesome not to be included. ^o^

Secondly; THANK YOU all who have reviewed this! I went into my inbox and shrieked because of how many reviews I got. I have denied that I shrieked to my father though who thought I saw a big ***, hairy spider and came running to my aid. Good times, da?

Oh – amour means love in French. Writing fan fiction for Hetalia is aiding my language skills no end.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Ludwig woke to find Feliciano covered in sweat, trembling.

The Italian looked terrible. He was covered in a layer of cold sweat while he felt as though he was burning up to the German's touch.

Ludwig's eyes went wide in shock. "Feliciano". He shook the Italian lightly at first, but started to shake more violently when Feliciano was none responsive. "Feliciano! Wake up". He started shouting in hope that it would do what the shaking would not, but only succeeded in waking Alfred up. Alfred could not deny that he didn't feel better for the food and the sleep, but to have that sleep disturbed in such a fashion had never settled well with him.

Looking to where the commotion was, Alfred felt the complaint die on his tongue.

Stifling a yawning, Alfred sat up and rubbed his eyes, chasing the sleep away. Looking to his side, he found Arthur slouched, his chin resting on his chest in sleep. Taking instant pity on how the Englishman would feel upon waking up if he was left like that much longer, and the feeling of urgency upon him, Alfred shook him awake so he could confer with him about a new course of action. Arthur blinked several times before fixing sleepy, emerald green eyes on Alfred's face. A small, genuine smile presented itself. Alfred felt ashamed of himself to be the one to brush away such a rare insight into the Englishman's soul and mind in an unguarded state as though it was an everyday occurrence, but the image of Ludwig's desperate actions over Feliciano would not leave his mind, and in time of real crisis, he had (until recent centuries) turned to England for help. Now he was lucky if he found the Englishman looking at him twice without having to do something embarrassing first.

Alfred opened his mouth to point out the situation about Feliciano, but Arthur's smile stop him. He couldn't bring himself to break the trace he was under. Arthur looked like an angel looking up at him. Despite everything he had been through so far, his skin was no longer ashen but instead a ghostly white while his emerald eyes glittered.

Alfred would have happily have let the world come to an end just as long as he could remain looking at Arthur, but the commotion going off behind them drew Arthur's attention from Alfred, making him look around the younger nation and breaking the trace. Silently, Arthur roused himself despite his body aching in complaint, and motioning for Alfred to join him, proceeded to shuffle to Ludwig's side to see if they could help. The German wanted nothing more than to brush Alfred and Arthur away, but with the intent look of worry and wanting to aid him in their eyes, Ludwig found he couldn't do anything other than accept the offered help.

"He's got a fever". Ludwig told Alfred as he, some what reluctantly, placed Feliciano in the American's arms as instructed by Arthur. Alfred found himself uncomfortable at first but, with Arthur guiding him, he soon felt comfortable and at ease. Ludwig furrowed his eye brows in concentration before Arthur lethargically placed a hand on his shoulder, indicating for him to take a step back and allow him to take over.

Ludwig, again, nearly resisted but relented. Arthur took his place and removed the excess layers placed there to give the Italian additional comfort. Ludwig's jacket was discarded to the floor along with Feliciano's own blue one. Arthur removed the tie and undid the top button after motioning to Ludwig to make something resembling a bed on the floor to rest the Italian on.

"How do you know all this Arthur?" Alfred asked as he watched Arthur work. The Englishman's fingers still caused him much pain which made his face contort with pain sometimes. Alfred could not help but admire his previous father figure. Even in the height of misery, he just would not stop.

"I learned from you". Arthur replied without looking up.

"From me?" Alfred asked, stunned.

"Yes, you had fevers when you were growing up". Arthur replied, again without looking up.

"And you looked after me?" Alfred asked, making Arthur look up at him with an expression of 'no duh' written across his face.

"Once a problem child, always a problem child". Arthur chuntered before turning his attention back to Feliciano.

Ludwig watched Arthur working silently, admiring the knowledge the Englishman was displaying. Arthur, sensing that he was being watched, acted in a way that would put Ludwig's mind more at rest before finally finishing tending to Feliciano having done everything he could.

"I wish we had some water with us". Arthur commented, still on his knees as Ludwig and Alfred manoeuvred Feliciano into a comfortable position on the bed Ludwig had made. "One of the most important things to do with a person who has fever is to keep them hydrated".

"You found that out from me too?" Alfred asked.

"I've had fevers too you know". Arthur replied, also wishing they had a thermometer. He knew that fevers should generally go untreated, but when a temperature hits or goes above 106.7 °F, medical attention became urgent. But, watching the Italian, he also wished he could at least give him some Ibuprofen. Anything to try to relieve some of the Italian's suffering.

"You seem to know a lot, but you didn't seem to do anything". Ludwig said as he sat by Feliciano's side and took his hand in his own tightly.

"Not much we can do". Arthur replied thoughtfully.

After seeing Feliciano settled and fairing a little better than he was before, Arthur looked exhausted as his eyes closed in his hope for a quick doze. He wrapped his arms around himself for a bit of warmth and pulled his legs in close. Alfred surprised him though as he took him in his arms and held him close in hope that Arthur could benefit from his body heat. His hand covered Arthur's smaller one and gave it a gentle squeeze. Arthur looked up with half hooded eyes at Alfred, silently brimming with gratitude, before resting his head against Alfred's chest and listening to his heart.

"You're getting weaker". Alfred stated, causing Arthur's head to shoot back up in surprise.

"W … what?" He blinked in surprise.

"I can see it … when you move". Alfred answered. "It shows; before you would sooner eat glass than rest in my arms. Now you're falling asleep pressed up against me and you seem at home despite previous grudges".

"Make your point and make it good, git". Arthur hissed but did not move.

"I don't think you ate anything when they brought us that horrid porridge". Alfred answered lowly. Arthur watched him, a look of horror present before his features darkened.

"You can't prove that". Arthur shot back. "And why would I give up my own food for a ungrateful twat like you?"

"Because there are some things in life that you can't put behind you … and caring for me is one". Alfred had no idea how well that would go down, but he decided that now was a good time to say it, mainly because Arthur couldn't clout him round the back of the head for insinuating that he had emotions outside anger and active annoyance towards him.

Arthur pressed his lips together hard before answering, "I raised you. So I have memories, but that does not mean that I run around saving your ungrateful, hypocritical ass every time you dig yourself a hole you can't get out off".

"What you mean? I am a ..."

"STOP! JUST STOP WITH THAT HERO SHIT AND GET OFF YOUR GOD DAMN HIGH HORSE TWAT! I CAN'T TAKE MUCH MORE!" Arthur cried out in a mixture of frustration and despair.

Alfred was shocked into silence by the sudden out burst. He had been told that nations hated him constantly saying that he was 'The Hero', but never had the information cut him so deep. He thought everyone was joking or was envious of his position; but now with Arthur officially screaming at him to get off the high pedestal he appointed himself to, he came to the sudden realisation that the other nations were not envious of him, they were just sick of him.

"Just stop!" Arthur bit back a sob to get his words out. "Please, just stop. No body sees you as a hero! We all simply want to kill you when you go off on one. I'm sorry I'm the one to burst your little bubble of delusion you reside in, but someone has to! You, Alfred F. Jones, are not a hero! Keep going the way your going, your going to be a murder victim!"

"What you trying to say?" Alfred asked, hoping Arthur would take back his words.

Arthur looked at him horrified. "You … you truly are dense". With that, and the barrier hold back the deluge of tears crumbled and Arthur doubled over and cried his heart out.

Normally, Alfred would have denied all accusations he wasn't a hero, but at that moment he felt like crying himself. He had always been the hero; that was his identity, his occupation, it was everything he stood for. He couldn't help what his bosses got up to, nor could any nation, but to have that raw plead from Arthur to drop what everyone perceived to be an act pierced his soul. He allowed Arthur to continue to cry on him though, unable to push him away in anger.

Ludwig had listened to everything and when Alfred caught his eye, he sighed and gave him a small, apologetic smile. He had sided with Arthur.

"Alfred". Arthur regained some composure, but his eyes were still blood red from crying. "I … I can't let them hurt you". His speech was fractured. "You may be a pig headed imbecile at times, but you're my pig headed imbecile, you always have been".

Arthur rested a hand on the American's chest, unwittingly letting Alfred see the state of his fingers.

"I never did show any appreciation of what you did for me". Alfred said as he took once again Arthur's hand in his own and, bring Arthur's hand to his mouth, kissed the knuckles delicately. "Feliciano told me about how they always looked at me over your shoulder. You took on my burden by sacrificing yourself. My hand's should look like this, not yours". Alfred spoke as though in a trace, his eyes never leaving Arthur's agonising fingers.

Arthur began to tremble in his arms, his eyes brimming with more tears. "I … I …" Alfred watched him closely as he broke from his trace, concern filling his blue eyes. Arthur's mouth open and closed as he attempted to find the words he was looking for to express himself. However though, spontaneity of the moment made Arthur braver than he would other wise have been. Lifting himself up and wrapping his arms around Alfred's neck so he could whisper in the American's ear, in a trembling voice, he whispered three simple words.

"I love you".

A/N: It only took me to chapter nine to get that out! I'm usually much faster. ^o^ I'm hoping you like everything so far and thank you again to all who have reviewed! You guys are always making my day! I am going to start thank you each time you do it in recognition!

**Lovingbird **– I should imagine that there will be some where around 20 chapters. Well, that's how the plan rests at the moment. I love reading too! I am so grateful you feed your addiction by reading my work. **Vermilion skies** – I'm going to throw in a surprise pairing but not a pairing if your catching my drift. Knowing my communication skills though, you're probably not. Sorry about that. But you are correct about England x America. **Shineoncindi **– Whoot! Sealand. I shall thank you again, but I already thanked you at school, so you get a double thanks and a mention! Your closing in on Prussia's and Sealand's awesomeness. **Car** – thanks so much for letting me know I returned the favour of making you laugh. Your story I keep reviewing is the bee's knees. Every time I read it my parents threaten to take my laptop of me because I'm laughing too much and their starting to get suspicious about what I'm looking at. **Kami011** – Yes – Gilbert is so amazingly awesome, it should be illegal. **Yaminokokorouta** – Thank you for saying my story is epic! Compliments are always well received. **PinkPanther123** – You have reviewed so much and my heart and thanks go out to you! I shall also shudder with you. Can't stand big spiders. Once I saw a cockroach the size of my fist. Granted it was with one of those portable zoo's, but when that woman shoved it under my nose, needless to say I turned green and screamed before ducking beneath the table. **Iaveina** – you are another that has continuously made my day by reviewing. Watch out Gilbert – this one is about to steal your crown of awesomeness! Also, thanks for the tip off about the expo. **Axxi **– I hope your exams are over and went well. And your compliments about my work are terrifically charming! **ThEnd00** – Get more tea! you know you need it! **Chrono-contract** – thanks for the good luck! **Jawwenthevampire** – for you, I shall write more fiction to feed your addiction! But when you're in rehabilitation for this addiction, don't point the finger at me. ^o^


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Francis! I can't breath!" Matthew waved his arms in desperate panic as the Frenchman clung to him in terror. Just seconds after the lights went out, Matthew got a second fright as Francis had screamed and jumped on him, pinning him to the chair and making his ears ring.

"What was that?" Francis clung to him even tighter. "I heard footsteps".

"Francis ..."

"THIS IS LIKE A HORROR FILM!" Francis shrieked before jumping off Matthew, doing what the Canadian considered to be permanent damage to his legs, and hide behind the chair.

Matthew, ignoring the pain in his legs, stood up and moved around the pitch black living room. He manoeuvred himself gracefully around the hard wood table with lots of glass ornaments on that would make a loud crash and cost him a fortune if he had walked into them. That was the beauty of living in that house as long as he had; he knew where everything was.

Reaching over behind the sofa, Matthew retrieved his beloved ice hockey stick. He didn't want to use it in a fight, but with nothing else on hand he would much rather break the hockey stick that was replaceable over loosing the fight. He didn't want to think about the consequences of loosing.

_Probably find out where Alfred is. _Matthew thought to himself as he turned and, twirling the stick in his hand before gripping it firmly, walked back to where Francis had removed himself from behind the chair and now stood, grim with dread.

"Father, I'm going upstairs". Matthew whispered to him. "Stay in the hall. There's an umbrella behind the door. Anything happens, call".

"Oui". Francis smiled thinking how brave Matthew proved himself to be when the time counted. He was no longer the quiet nation everyone missed and ignored; he was the one who was raising to the challenge and leading, not being led. Doing as Matthew said though, he stood in the hall, hugging the umbrella to his chest as Matthew climbed the stairs, being sure to jump the third and tenth as they creaked.

_Keep calm, keep calm. Remember what Arthur supposedly lives by; keep calm and carry on. Keep calm and carry on. He also says loose lips sinks ships. Thinking about it he's right. Bit like that Ponting's case he ranted to me about at the time. He didn't shut up for three days about that. I'm pretty sure he was ranting even when he drank his tea. There's a skill to master. Wait; all right you, stop getting side tracked and thinking about completely irrelevant things. Something is wrong and you need your wits about you. Gaarrhhhh! Where's Prussia when you need him! He's good at smiting. Where is he!_

Matthew made it to the top of the stairs and, holding his breath, strained his ears and eyes to see or hear anything. Consciously aware that he could get shoved back down the stairs if an attacker rushed him, Matthew inched away from the top of the stairs and more onto the landing.

_Ample room, lots of rooms with doors slightly open that an attacker can leap from at any given moment, I wish I was armed with something other than a hockey stick. A torch would be great. Blind him, then beat him. Why did I never get a guard dog? One of Alfred's rabid flying squirrels would be great now, just so long it was trained not to fly at me. After this I'm getting a dog; and I'm going to call him Cujo! _

While Matthew was creeping about on the landing doing his best impression of stealth to date, Francis still stood gripping the umbrella. If artificial light had been present, he would have seen the huge maple leaf that decorated it, but since there was no light and the situation did not press for him to study the latest umbrella designs and patterns, he could not have care less if it was a maple leaf or a tapestry of French history. It was a weapon, and that was enough for him.

Stood like a statute, his eyes went everywhere. They were taking time to adjust to the darkness, so everywhere he looked, he saw very little. Who ever was in the house could have been stood right next to him, smirking, and he would not know until he reached out and touched him.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Arrgghhhh!"

"It's me papa". Matthew answered the shriek to put Francis' mind at rest. "There was nothing upstairs".

"So … it's ...down here with us?" Francis replied as his mind spun. He himself, like Matthew, was wishing for Prussia to turn back up to rain down fire and brimstone.

"Yes, I think so". Matthew answered. "Stay here again, I'm going to go in there and do a sweep. If anything happens again, call". With this the Canadian was gone again, leaving Francis wondering if he had always been this brave.

Minutes lapsed. Francis began to worry. "Matthew?" Francis finally called when the Canadian didn't make a reappearance. He moved back towards the kitchen hoping to find him. "Matthew?" He called again. He still had no reply. He turned to go back into the hall.

"Papa".

Francis froze. His eyes had adjusted well enough to the little light present that he could make out two separate people stood in the hall. Matthew had a knife pressed to his throat.

"Papa".

"Matthew". Francis mouthed, as though the mere mention of the Canadian's name would result in his death.

"Come peacefully, and nothing shall happen to the one you hold near and dear". The man growled. Francis couldn't see his face and this only added to the distress he was now in.

"Papa, don't". Matthew pleaded. "It is a trap! He means nothing he says!"

"Matthew ..."

"No ..." The knife pressed harder against his throat and silenced him.

"Want your son going to the grave for your incompetence?" The man with the knife growled.

"I ..."

"No, don't listen to him!" Matthew cried out.

"Matthew..."

"Do you?"

As Gilbert arrived back at Matthew's, something struck him as off. As he pulled up outside after the failed expedition to find beer, he sat with the engine off, contemplating. Then it hit him – there were no lights on.

Creeping out the car door and leaving it open so not to make a additional sounds that would alert someone to his presence, he crouched low and made his way to the house, peering in through the letter box in the Canadian's door.

Gilbert's crimson eyes watched the scene attentively, taking careful note of where each of them was. Their positions were not likely to change by the time he got there. It was a stand off, and Gilbert had been in enough of those to know what one looked like.

After seeing and committing to memory the confrontation in the hall, Gilbert crept in through the back door, arming himself with a some what large and heavy chunk of wood from the extreme DIY gardening Matthew was doing before all this hell broke loose.

Moving quietly, yet at speed that had come with many, many years of practice, Gilbert appeared hidden from view behind the attacker and Matthew. From where he was, he could tell there was a knife against Matthew's throat and he knew, again from many many years experience, he would only have one shot at this, and timing was everything.

Matthew defied the man again by instructing Francis to keep his distance. The man rose the knife, ready to plunge it into the Canadian's neck. Matthew turned his head away, screwing his eyes shut in anticipation. Just as he was about to bring the knife down, Gilbert raced out and swung the chunk of wood as hard as he could, bring it down on top of the man's head. The man crumpled and went to the ground, taking Matthew with him. Francis ran forward and took Matthew in his arms after carelessly shoving the attacker of the top of him, tears streaming down his cheeks as he held Matthew tightly, fearful to let him go. "My dear, sweet Matthew. Forgive me. Forgive me. It was my fault. I should not have let you go alone. My dear, sweet child. Please forgive me. Please forgive me".

"I'm fine". Matthew hugged Francis back. "I'm fine. The blade was blunt. Not even a cut; look". He took Francis' hand in his own so he could guide the Frenchman's fingers over his neck to prove that no harm had befallen him.

"Oh my dear, sweet Matthew". Francis launched off again.

Gilbert, not being an emotional creature by nature, avoided even looking at them and instead busied himself with glaring at the man clothed all in black now sprawled across the floor. Deciding that this was not to replicate one of those dreadful films where no one could not come up with the simple idea of turning the lights on, Gilbert decided that at that time getting the lights back on would be the best use of his expertises. That and he couldn't be around that much emotion for much longer. "I'm going to turn the lights back on". Gilbert said and took off out the front door without waiting for an answer.

With Francis' attention all on Matthew though, one was not forthcoming.

By the time the lights came back on and Gilbert had returned, Francis had let Matthew go. Matthew giving a weak smile to Gilbert.

"Thank you".

Gilbert shrugged. "It's what awesome people like me do".

"Saving people?" Matthew asked, thinking that line sounded strangely familiar.

"No, beating the shit out of people I don't like". Gilbert replied.

"Oh". Matthew replied. "Thanks anyway".

Just as Gilbert was about to slam the front door, a voice rang out in the night making everyone freeze on the spot.

"_Preveet. This a good time, da?"_

A/N: First things first, and I'm going to sound like Poland doing this … OMG, seriously, like, fantastic! You guy's who keep reviewing me are epic! I will tell Gilbert to put you on his Christmas card list.

Additionally, Ponting's case was a case during the Falklands war where a civil servant broke the Official Secrets Act 1920 and leaked information to the public about the sinking of a ship. The jury acquitted him because they thought he was acting on the public's behalf, but the leaking of that information could have lead to the death of many British soldiers, so naturally Arthur would be completely and utterly pissed off at their decision. Thought it was appropriate. ^o^

**ThEnd00** – Yep. Alfred is absolutely clueless. But that's what us fanfiction authors work off. We like the clueless dope.** Hikarilightz** – rescue is soon to be on the way. It will have hints of hysteria in it though. ^o^ **hugglestheknowitall** – thank you so much for your compliments! It's awesome that my story is having that effect on you. I'm trying to refine my skills on here (thank god for editors who check spellings though) because I want to start writing books in a few years time. I hope you did well in your finals (and I also hope they're over – I hate tests)! **Pinkpanther123** – 'Your Highness'? I like it. ^_^ Quite a boost to the old ego, but if some one said that to me in person I would blush like one of Spain's tomatoes and hide behind the sofa. Also, thanks for saying that I should get more reviews. When I upload more than five chapters, I learn names of authors who always review! So now when I upload I think to myself – '_I hope that's up to PinkPanther123's standard'_. No joke I actually do! Thanks again. **Meluzina** – Ludwig is defiantly a unconventional nurse. Hahaha. Feliciano's in good hands, trust me. ;) **Chrono-contact **- ~hands box of tissues~ sorry! **Iaveina** – my hatred of revision has gone to a whole new level now. Thanks for all the reviews! **Axxi **– fluffy confessions! ~hey Feliciano, hug her back~ Arthur has told me to tell you congrats on being British ~whispers loudly to the side~ it's put Alfred right out! **Jawwenthevampire **– You're too awesome not to give a mention too!

Hope you liked the update!


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Alfred looked at Arthur in disbelief.

"W ...what?"

"I love you … and now you hate me even more". Arthur bit back a sob that was threatening to escape him as tears once more glided down his face, symbolising his distress. "I know you hate me; it's the main reason you left in the first place. I'm not ignorant to it. Why else do we bicker so? Why Alfred? Why do you hate me? Why?"

Alfred pulled the crying Englishman to him and hugged him fiercely. "Please stop crying Arthur". Alfred pleaded in a hushed tone. "Please stop crying. I don't hate you".

"You lie". Arthur continued to shed bitter tears.

"I don't!" Alfred pleaded, trying to get through to Arthur he had no hatred for him.

"You know, for the first few months after you left, I kept making two of every meal". Arthur whispered. "I always imagined that you would just appear next to me; that you fighting for your independence had never happened but was instead just a nightmare". Arthur fell quiet for a few moments. "You never did turn up though". His eyes dropped to the floor. "Never thought I could be that lonely".

"Arthur ..."

"You never want to spend time with me".

"Thats a lie". Alfred protested.

"_I'm not going to yours for Christmas. Do you hear me! Ask Matthew! _Sound familiar?" Arthur's voice cracked as he continued to look at the floor.

"I … errr … come on Iggy, you know I was joking". Alfred tried to laugh it off but the sight of the sorrowful Englishman before him made the laugh bitter.

"Ludwig". Arthur turned his attention to the German. "Learn from my mistakes. You love Feliciano. Don't ever let go of him! Ever! You will spend the rest of your life regretting it if you do!"

Ludwig found it hard to form a reply that seemed adequate. "Okay Arthur," he finally settled on.

"Arthur ..."

"I know, I know! You loath and despise me". Arthur cut him off, mourning for the loss of the time when they were happy together. Alfred could see that Arthur's mind kept drifting back to other times as his eyes became distant, the occasional outlet of breath symbolised his affection and emotion to what ever memory he was thinking about.

Alfred, deciding words alone were not going to get through to the Englishman, tilted Arthur's chin up with his fingers before placing his lips against Arthur's. Arthur tensed with the sudden affectionate gesture; his emerald eyes going wide and his mind racing. Alfred's lips pressed a little harder against Arthur's, his tongue brushing lightly across Arthur's lips making them tingle and Arthur's heart beat harder in his chest. Arthur's eyes fluttered as he was submerged in a deluge of pleasure and opened his mouth and allowed Alfred access.

Wrapping his arms around the back of Alfred's neck, careful not to use his hands,Arthur kissed back with passion equal to Alfred's. Alfred's hand disappeared into Arthur's scruffy blonde hair causing Arthur to give a small moan in pleasure. Alfred kept the kiss delicate and affectionate, his arm going around Arthur's waist to support him as well as to pull him against him. Arthur moulded against him willingly as he relaxed, expressing his long pent up desire for this moment that had finally arrived. Alfred could feel Arthur's hot, bitter tears against his cheeks, and he felt his heart become heavy with shame at having caused them.

Breaking the kiss, Arthur looked up at Alfred. His tears had stopped but his cheeks were still wet while his eye were red and glassy. Alfred couldn't help but give a small smile to reassure the Englishman. Cupping Arthur's face with his hands, Alfred said softly, "I don't hate you. I love you".

Arthur smiled a weak smile.

"But you really are a terrible cook".

"Twat". Arthur chucked and sniffled at the same time.

Arthur felt drained as he rested his head against Alfred's shoulder. Alfred played with his hair. It earned the American the comment, 'I'm not a fucking Barbie doll!', but Arthur said this without conviction. The feeling of Alfred rolling strands of his hair between his fingers made his skin tingle.

"I'll follow you and make a heaven out of hell, and I'll die by your hand which I love so well".

"Huh?" Alfred asked, confused.

"It's Shakespeare". Arthur smiled, remembering that Alfred never had an attention span for anything classical.

"Oh". Alfred said, dismissing the search as to what those words meant. "Did he say anything else?"

"My bounty is as deep as the sea, My love is as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite". Arthur replied, finding the Bard's words truthful.

"Ah … deep". Alfred brows furrowed in a way that Arthur both found cute, and reminded him slightly of himself. Perhaps Alfred did learn something from him after all.

Arthur chuckled, feeling his eyes aching and becoming increasingly heavy. "You have no idea what they mean do you?"

"No!" Alfred replied with a his imbecile smile. "Sound good though what ever they mean".

"When we get out here, I'll lend you the complete works".

Alfred puffed his cheeks out in protest. "Why would I want to read a book when there's a TV in the corner?"

"Because you're missing out on the Genius that is William Shakespeare". Arthur gave in to himself and closed his eyes. Both lapsed into silence; Arthur resting while Alfred bit back comments about being a hero that had long since become second nature. He didn't want to upset Arthur again.

"Arthur?" Alfred asked, suddenly wanting to get something off his chest. "Arthur?" Alfred looked down to find Arthur had fallen asleep curled up against him.

"You always fall asleep on me". Alfred smirked, running a hand through Arthur's blonde hair affectionately. He kissed Arthur's forehead lovingly, earning a light sigh, before he shifted himself slightly to make himself more comfortable and finally came to rest against Arthur and allowing sleep to claim him too.

Ludwig looked over at them, noticing how well they seemed to fit together. He then looked back to Feliciano, remembering Arthur's words when he was in the pit of despair, thinking he had lost the one person he loved and sought the most. _'Don't ever let him go … you'll spend the rest of your life regretting it'. _

Ludwig looked down on Feliciano with pleading eyes. "Please hang in there". He took the Italian's hand in his own and squeezed it hard. "Your strong! Please just hang in there".

Feliciano made no reply but instead remained trembling, unconscious and unaware of Ludwig's presence by his side. Ludwig, no matter how much he wanted Feliciano to be awake again, he did not think he could bear to see his brown eyes filled with fever and illness.

Ludwig brushed away a few strands of stray hair that had stuck to Feliciano's forehead before laying down next to him, keeping the Italian's hand in his own. He could either stray awake and look at stone walls and bars while fretting, or he could sleep and hopefully not dream.

As he rested his head on the floor, he prayed he wouldn't dream.

"_Doitsu! Doitsu!" Feliciano shouted in excitement. Ludwig looked over his shoulder, but was not expecting the full on assault that befell him. Feliciano jumped on his back, causing the German to stagger with shock. _

"_ITALY!" Ludwig shouted in protest of being used as a form of transportation. _

"_Doitsu". Feliciano cooed in the dream like voice that Ludwig had become accustom too. He didn't need to look to know that Feliciano had that content expression written all over his face while smiling that trade mark innocent smile. "Let me cook you some pasta!" _

"_Will you get off my back if I say yes?" Ludwig asked._

"_Doitsu wants Pasta". Feliciano sang as he jumped off Ludwig's back and raced away to go make some. Ludwig watched him leave; his mind filled with curiosity. He wasn't good with emotions, but watching the Italian bounce away happily, he felt … uplifted. _

_He concluded that it was strange before carrying on with his original task, but no matter how he busied himself there after, he couldn't rid himself of that feeling. _

Ludwig blinked as he came around before yawning. Despite the sleep he was still awfully tired. He never thought he would admit this, but he wanted a comfortable bed, a huge mug of beer, and his brother acting the drunken idiot … real bad. Just to feel comfortable again was third on his priority list after looking out for Feliciano and escaping.

Feliciano's condition had not changed for the worst, of which he found very fortunate. He had not left the Italian's side and he would refuse to if someone tried to make him. His mind had only fretted over something like this once and that was when Gilbert had lost his nation. He had feared that he would go off the deep end and for a while he didn't look to good. He remembered the knot he got in his stomach when Gilbert had refused his offer of beer. Gilbert never did that.

Ludwig, seeking to take his mind of his current fear and his past fears, looked over to where the American and Englishman were still slumbering, leant up against one another, both looking at home in one another's arms.

"Well, at least I'm not the only one who's dysfunctional in love".

A/N: So sorry for the slow update. Between being at the hospital with my mum, homework, school and wider reading (we're onto the subject of _loovvveee _now. I now have a frightening insight into what Francis's mind is like! O_o), I have found virtually no time to write. Then I just thought, "sod it"! I hope you like the update!

**Wolf of infinity** – every time someone gives me a long review, I fear the worst. I always think that someone has decided to give me a lecture on something. It may just be me that though. ^o^ Thank you so much for the compliments and have no fear, this story shall be complete in around two weeks. Oh! Russia is going to be around a lot more now. ^_^ **Chrono-contact** - Yeah! Ivan! **Pinkpanther123 –** Oh yes! Most defiantly the quiet ones. And thanks for the Pinkpanther123 seal of approval. **ColourfulHeart –** I never knew my imagination could be entertaining for others. Thanks so much for the uplifting review. **Hikarilightz** – Russia is ninja like. We'll all probably find he was hiding in the garden behind the shrubs. **Car** – You have completed your story! NOOO! Me and my friend at school want more pranks. We were running through them before class started today and we just kept cracking up laughing. The Statue of Liberty one had the entire class looking at us like we were insane! And the art work is amazing for it! Thank you so much for the review. **Meluzina** – I always hope that my story is interesting for my readers! I'm so happy to learn that it is! Thank you for reviewing and telling me. **Axxi –** Arthur bows respectfully to you while Alfred is sulking in the corner. And I think being a nut case is in Gilbert's job description. **Jawwenthevampire** – Sorry for the timing! I hope you're feeling better. I just love Matthew so much I just had to include him. Both chapters are going to merge soon and it should (hopefully) prove to be quite entertaining. Thanks again for the review! **Iaveina **– Prussia = awesome. Enough said. ^o^ thank you so much for the review. **Hugglestheknowitall** – you make me blush, yet I think you know that. I have a few ideas for books that aren't fan fiction. I shall alert you then if I get published. And yes! That was Russia! ~ crumbles under intense stare before joins in throwing text books onto fire ~


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Gilbert; you know when you said let's grill him? I didn't actually think you literally meant stick his head under the grill!" Matthew stood back watching Gilbert trying to make the attackers head fit. He had already resorted to bashing the man's head of the counter in an attempt to reshape it. That was a failed attempt.

"What else did you think I meant?" Gilbert asked, looking genuinely shocked for a moment.

"I thought you meant tie him to a chair and try to get some answers."

"Great idea Mattie! Torture!" Gilbert's crimson eyes shone with the prospect of future entertainment.

"No! That's not what I meant!" Matthew shrieked in horror as Gilbert hauled the half conscious prisoner from the counter and shoved him into a kitchen chair and, producing rope (leaving Matthew with one hundred and one questions as to how the rope had appeared considering he never had any in the first place), and tied him securely to it. A little too securely. Gilbert's face contorted with effort and he pulled the rope tight, making the prisoner gasp as the air was forced out of his lungs.

"There is such a thing as the Geneva Convention." Matthew argued.

"I'm not a nation any more, remember. I don't count." Gilbert replied in a matter of fact way.

"Yes you do!" Matthew felt exasperated. "It counts for everyone; nations and citizens."

Gilbert looked at Matthew before looking back to the prisoner. Then, looking back at Matthew, he voiced his carefully formulated response and opinion.

"Pfft."

Matthew sighed. Dealing with Gilbert was like dealing with a brick wall. Deciding that his sanity was worth more than bickering with the Prussian to make a point, Matthew walked away, biting back any comments that he had second before been ready to launch at the Prussian.

"Hey mattie!" Gilbert's shouted after him. "The bastard says he's a missionary! See my way does work. All we had to do was cut off the blood circulation to his brain!"

"Great." Matthew called back, worried that Gilbert would take this as a sign to kick his various forms of extracting information into high gear. He walked into his living room to see Francis perched on the edge of his sofa, his face contorted with worry. He would have gone and fetched him a coffee, but he wasn't prepared to go back into the kitchen just yet.

Ivan was smiling his trade mark child like smile before he stood up and walked past Matthew. Matthew tensed, waiting for something, anything, to happen. For a comment, or an action, or what ever the Russian could have thought of to do. Nothing came though and after a several seconds, Matthew released a breath he wasn't aware he was holding.

Matthew reached over and shook Francis by the shoulder lightly. Francis immediately broke out his trance and looked at him, guarding his expression and body language fiercely. Matthew, again, found this off. He was always used to his father figure wearing his heart on his sleeve.

"Matthew". Lithuania whispered into his ear, making him jump. Matthew looked at him and noted that Toris was constantly looking over his shoulder. What ever this was about, permission was certainly not involved.

"What's wrong Toris?" Matthew asked, seeing his worried look and sympathising with him.

"I think … Gilbert left the prisoner with Ivan".

_Oh! hell! This is pure insanity!_

Matthew blinked before stuttering, "W … w … what? Why would Gilbert do that?"

_Because he wants answers about his brother, and who better to get them than the psychopathic Russian? Gilbert probably got bored of pulling teeth, and do you really blame him? Thinking about it, it's a damn good idea to set Ivan on the prisoner. _

This entire situation was beginning to sound more and more like a playground scrap, setting people on other people because they were bigger and meaner. It was either that or a battle of the wits; but there wasn't much evidence of an abundance of the said wits being present. Matthew felt a wave of fatigue wash over him while he was contemplating this.

"Thanks Toris." Matthew patted Toris on the shoulder as he passed him. Walking towards Gilbert, who was sat at the bottom of the stairs, he grabbed him by the arm and dragging him back off towards the kitchen so they could both keep an eye on Ivan. Getting answers was great, but you didn't want to kill or drive the only one who had the answers insane. That just defeated the point of strapping him to a chair.

The door bell rang behind them and Matthew could hear Francis' voice as he saw to it. "Ah! Peter! Antonio! Romano! Good to see you." The jollity of his voice sounded forced. Matthew was inwardly cringing to himself about how much his house would be trashed after this. Another spell of DIY was going to be on the cards; especially if he wanted to sell up and move.

"You will tell me who you are, da?"

"Fuck you." Came the malicious reply as Matthew entered and, still dragging Gilbert with him, came to stand behind Ivan. The accent was thick American, which threw Matthew immediately. An American wanting to hurt his own nation?

The trembling trio had followed them and now stood behind them, removing themselves from the close proximity of the Russian that they otherwise would have found themselves in. Besides, Ivan was starting to give the warning signs of becoming upset. Whilst all this was going on, Francis appeared with Romano, who looking like he'd been dragged through hell backwards because of the worry, Antonio with his arm around the Italian's shoulders trying to comfort him, and Peter looking more than a little lost amidst the chaos.

"What's happened?" Antonio whispered into Matthew's ear. Romano's head spun round, his wide yet alert eyes focusing on Matthew.

"Bastards have my bruder!" Gilbert snarled before Matthew could respond.

"The guy Ivan is interrogating tried to kidnap me and Francis. He's part of the group that's taken Ludwig, Feliciano, Alfred and Arthur." Matthew did a better job at filling them in. Romano looked like he had been slapped. Peter looked horrified. Antonio eyes were wide with shock.

"Tell me where the nations are, da?" Matthew thought it was odd Ivan kept putting 'da?' on the end of his questions. The prisoner smirked in defiance. "You will tell me." Ivan continued, his usual child like self incredibly unnerving for every other nation around him. "You don't want to upset me now, do you, da?" The Prisoner just leered at the threats.

_Does that man know who he's dealing with? Ivan could break him in half like a twig if he chose. Take a hint when nations turn pale and hide from someone. It generally means freaky shit is about to go down; or someone is about to be ripped to pieces. _

Ivan continued to question, but to no avail. Matthew, noticing that Ivan's line of questioning wasn't producing anything other than sneers and malicious smirks, decided upon himself to play to the prisoners pride to get answers. It always worked in the movies Alfred made him sit through. He just hoped it would work now.

"What were you hoping to achieve?" Matthew asked, taking over the line of questioning from Ivan, the tone of his voice elevating the prisoner above the rest of them and placing him on a pedestal.

"To bring that loud mouth American down!" The prisoner took the bait.

"If you're just concerned with bring America down; why target the other three nations?" Matthew asked, ignoring everybody else in the room who had either gasped or started muttering amongst themselves.

"What about L'Angleterre?" Francis chipped in, his voice dominant over those around him.

"England?" The man asked, a cruel smirk on his face. "Ah yes, the glorious England. You are very much right. We don't have a issue with him. He's … collateral damage."

"Collateral damage?" Matthew said in disbelief.

"Who else does America look to for love? Who else does he look to for acceptance? Who has he been trying to prove himself too before and since his separation? It has always been England. If we are going to bring down America, we have to take out those first that are his pillars of strength, those who are his motivation, his reason to continue on. Sure they appear on the surface to hate one another intensely; but it doesn't take a genius to see that America loves England. Hurt England, you hurt America."

"So where does that leave my brother and his idiot friend?" Gilbert growled dangerously.

"Deterrence." The man met Gilbert's glare. "So other nations would never again side with America. Send the message that it's bad for your health."

Matthew placed a hand on Gilbert's arm, taking the Prussian's attention away from the man for a few seconds. This was so that the split second Gilbert would have spontaneously jumped on the man and torn him to pieces had passed. It worked and Matthew could feel the tension slightly leaving the muscles in Gilbert's arms.

"Thanks Mattie." Gilbert exhaled dangerously. "You just saved a man's life." Matthew hid the horror he felt well as Gilbert turned his attention back to the prisoner. "How are they?" The Prussian ground out.

"How are they? Well, last I heard Italy is on his death bed while England is going to need a new set of fingernails, and soon to be a coffin." An insane smile spread across the man's face. "Break the imbecile's heart. He'll lose the will to survive."

"My dear L'Angleterre." Francis murmured, paling and tears coming to his eyes. Matthew looked at him, worried. He was the only one to notice Francis distress. Everyone else was still crowded around the prisoner, murder present in their eyes though Matthew hoped it wouldn't come to that. The more he studied their expressions, the more he realised that they were close to giving Ivan the go ahead to go 'psycho bastard' on him.

Seeing Francis about to crumble, Matthew quickly dragged him into the other room and closed the door, leaving everyone else to get more information. Turning to Francis, he witnessed a nation in crisis. "Francis? Are you all right?" Matthew asked, concerned, thinking that the French economy had suddenly failed or the President had been assassinated.

Francis looked away from him with blurred vision. It was his some what poor attempt at hiding his upset from Matthew. "I'm fine." He croaked out.

"No you're not. This is to do with Arthur isn't it?" Matthew pushed, coming to stand by Francis's side and resting a hand on his arm. Francis's head shot around to look at Matthew. His mouth moved but no words came out. Matthew felt intensely awful for pushing his previous father figure like he had done. "I'm sorry, I should not have pushed you."

"Non." Francis shook his head, his blonde hair bouncing around in it's elegant glory. "You care." Francis paused for a minute. "Oui, it is about Monsieur L'Angleterre."

"We'll get him back. We'll get them all back." Matthew reassured.

"I know, I … worry."

"Since when do you worry about Arthur?" Matthew asked, his brows furrowed. Last time he checked, Francis and Arthur had always been at one another's throats. He never thought he would see Francis concerned. He always imagined that Francis would be over the moon and jumping for joy if Arthur ever disappeared.

"Can't a nation worry about another nation?" Francis questioned, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat.

"Yeah, but you're more inclined to worry about Vash than Arthur". Matthew replied. "How many wars have you both fought against one another?" He could think of a good few if he needed help remembering.

Francis waved a hand to dismiss all the wars that had been fought between him and Arthur. "It doesn't matter now. Besides, we have bosses as you know. Even though I had nothing against Arthur personally, I would still have to fight if my bosses wanted it." Francis exhaled heavily. "I would not have fought half those wars if I had the choice." A tired expression darkened his features, leaving Matthew asking himself how he could have missed half of what he was being told.

Matthew continued to looked at him, his mind trying to assimilate the new information. He always thought France and England would go to war over virtually nothing. He could sense that Francis wasn't quite telling him something though. The underlying hint was there for him to pick up on and work out, but Francis wasn't coming out with what it was directly.

"Is there more to this than you're telling me?" Matthew enquired.

Francis bottom lip trembled and he raised his hand to cover his mouth.

"Francis?"

"I love Arthur!" Francis blurted out, taking Matthew off guard. "I love him, I always have! I never found the time to tell him though because he thinks I'm a pervert. He could never have loved me back. But now those brutes have him!" Tears began to flow freely down his cheeks. "Those brutes have him and I can't help him!"

Francis dragged Matthew into his arms and hugged him tightly, his head resting on the Canadian's shoulder, weeping. Matthew couldn't bring himself to push him away and instead wrapped his arms around Francis and held him in a comforting hug, allowing Francis to vent his sorrow.

"We will get him back! I promise you." Matthew ground out. "Even if we have to go through a hundred; a thousand men like him out there, we will get him back." A feeling of loathing for the man tied to the chair in his kitchen suddenly engulfing him. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. He suddenly realised what allowed people to commit murder.

"Thank you Matthew." Francis sniffed. "Thank you."

A/N: One more chapter written, and many of you would be pleased to know that more major angst is coming up in the next chapter … and it includes Feliciano! Oh! Am I evil or what! ^o^ Oh! And don't any of you worry your pretty little heads. There is more info coming up in the next few chapters. Hope you enjoyed this update!

**Tocool456** – I agree! I just love those two together! And thanks for the compliment. **Homura chan** – evil yet funny! ^o^ Poor Arthur. He's now on the look out for you. **Kattypow** – I'm happy that I make your day! **StarGazer453** – Don't worry about the not reviewing part! I just love to write. I do like it though when one or two tell me what I have done is good. If I've messed up I need to know. Lol. Thanks for the review! **Axxi** – oh yes, the torture is going to start again very very soon! (smirks evilly). **PinkPanther123** – Noo! your friend needs to know what Hetalia is now! And she sounds a lot like Belarus. O_o. I can just imagine her clawing at the closest. Hahahaha. **GlaceonGal** – Aww thanks! I always get stuck for words when it comes to accepting compliments. It's mainly – 'err ... err ... thanks'. I hope this update was satisfactory for you.** Wolf of infinity** – Ivan rocks! Also, I always imagined Arthur wanted to say more but his fears and pains kept him from saying them. Poor Iggy. **Car **– the Susan Boyal thing was complete genius! Arthur most certainly deserves a break after all that! ^o^ Thanks again for the review! **Hikarilightz** – school hasn't ended yet. (Cries in the corner). It ends for me personally in two weeks time. I get a week (and I think a half) extra off because I'll be in Hong Kong. Now its getting closer I'm getting more excited (and the prospect of no lessons and homework is great too), but I'm now racing to finish my stories on here! I'm not great at planning ahead. **Chrono- contract **– hehehe. I adore their cuteness too! **Lovingbird** – we all know Ludwig isn't as uptight as he comes across as being. ^o^ **Meluzina **– Feliciano/Ludwig is an amazing pair! So cute and complete opposites! **Wanderingnote** – thanks for the review!


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Ludwig was tearing around the cell, seething with anger and his face contorted with rage.

"They took him!" He snarled. "Those fucking bastards took him." He punched the stone wall with his fist. All that did though was send pain shooting through his hand and caused Arthur and Alfred to grimace.

Alfred had never seen Ludwig, the usually composed and collected German, so enraged. He had been jolted awake by the gratuitous swearing and the booming voice that echoed off the walls. Watching the caged German, he couldn't help but expect violence from him if one of those men were still in the room.

Arthur had found his feet before Alfred had even woken up and was trying to calm the German down. He had seen Ludwig this angry before, but that didn't give him any sure footing on how to handle him.

"We'll get him back." Arthur tried to reason, hiding his nails. "Look at me, I was returned."

Ludwig spun on him. "Show me your fucking nails." He ground out slowly. It was a command, not a request. Arthur had no intention on showing him, so Ludwig grabbed his arm in a vice like grip. Arthur ground his teeth as Ludwig's grip tightened. Alfred jumped up with intentions of going to Arthur's aid and getting between them if it kept escalating. He knew Arthur's pride though, and there was no way Arthur would be pleased if Alfred intervened before he was really needed. The last thing he needed was to be apologizing through his back teeth to a wounded Iggy nursing a bruised reputation.

"Show me." Ludwig ground out again. Arthur would have answered with a no, but only gave a small gasp as the clamp tightened on his arm. Alfred jolted forward with Arthur's distress but stopped himself just behind him as Arthur had opened his clenched hand, revealing the nails. Alfred watching cautiously. "Look at the damage those bastards inflicted. Arthur! LOOK AT IT!" Arthur visibly flinched under the command of his voice; his emerald eyes instantly going to his fingers. He knew he wasn't strong enough at that time to resist and fight the German that towered above him. Under any other circumstances he would have fought. "What are they doing to Feliciano?" Arthur thought it was a rhetorical question. "ARTHUR! WHAT ARE THEY DOING TO HIM?"

"I don't know." He cried in frustration. He knew what they could possibly be doing to him, but they seemed too resourceful to resort to the same thing twice. "Injuries will heal with time! Feliciano will be returned!" Ludwig looked possessed. Arthur cried out in pain as the grip tightened further and making him believe that there was now permanent damage to his arm. There was a dreadful moment when he thought it had been broken or fractured.

This finally caused Alfred to act.

"Let him go." Alfred growled, narrowing his eyes at the German.

Ludwig glared back and after several seconds, released Arthur. Arthur immediately pulled his arm against his chest, cradling it delicately. Alfred placed the palm of his hand on the side of Arthur's shoulder and pushed him gently, but none the less with force, away to the side. Arthur watched him with wide eyes.

"Alfred. Don't." His eyes pleaded with the American. "Please."

"No Arthur."

Arthur felt his heart sink.

Both nations to begin with glared at each other. Arthur found it to be very animalistic to watch, one trying to intimidate the other in to back down. If Alfred got hurt though, and that looked to be an extremely likely occurrence, Arthur was never going to forgive himself.

Ludwig made to punch Alfred; but Arthur had placed himself in the way in an attempt to break them up. His fist made contact with the middle of the Englishman's forehead, causing his vision to go black for a few moments. He fell to the floor, more in shock than in pain, his hand covering his forehead as his head continued to swim. Alfred's heart froze. He spun again on Ludwig but just before either of them could use the tightly clenched fists they both had raised, Arthur's world stopped spinning.

"They want us to turn on one another!" Arthur shriek. The fact that he had shrieked stopped both Alfred and Ludwig dead. Neither had heard him shriek before in horror and terror. "They want to drive a wedge between us! Don't you see that? They want us divided." Alfred felt the rage that peaked in him dissipate some what as his eyes rested on Arthur's pleading face. "I'm fine Alfred. Let it go." Arthur told him, knowing Alfred's reason to fight.

Alfred lowered his fists. "Arthur's right." He looked at Ludwig. "They could have taken anyone of us. We were all asleep. They took Feliciano because you would get angry and it _would_ divide us."

Ludwig looked at him before his features softened. "Give Arthur is IQ back."

"Hey!" Alfred protested. "I'm bright." Ludwig, surprising both Alfred and Arthur, cracked a weak smile. Arthur smirked at the American's verbal defiance. Ludwig offered him a hand and on taking it, he was hauled back to his feet and was given an apology.

"It's fine. Really." Arthur told him, waving a hand to dismiss any injury he had suffered from that scuffle. "You have every right to be angry and to want Feliciano back. If they had taken Alfred, even now I don't know what I would do." Alfred nearly commented but stopped himself.

"So we're alright?" Ludwig asked, wanting confirmation.

"Yeah." Arthur replied, a smile gracing his lips. "And so's Alfred."

"Excuse me. I thought I was wearing the pants in this relationship?" Alfred butted in.

"To hell you are." Arthur smirked. "That's right; go sulk." Ludwig gave a small chuckle as he watched Alfred pull a face.

"You two are the most unlikely match. Complete opposites." Ludwig commented as he had the brilliant mental image of Arthur drinking tea and embroidering, sat in a gentlemanly fashion with his legs crossed and his back straight, while Alfred was sprawled across the sofa playing video games while stuffing his face full of burgers, the floor around him covered in greasy burger wrappers. That was going to test Arthur's restraint and sanity for sure.

"The same could be said about you and Feliciano." Arthur replied. "It must be something to do with the saying of opposites attract." Ludwig nodded. Convoluted logic, but it made sense.

Arthur yawned. "Not sleeping well." He commented.

"None of us are." Lugwig said before yawning himself. Alfred yawned from his position to the side of them. "They weren't lying when they said yawning was contagious were they." The small smile slipped and was replaced by a sorrow filled look. "I promised to protect him. Can you give me some idea of what they did to you?" He knew now since he had calmed down that he was prying into something that Arthur most likely didn't want to talk about, but his love for the Italian kept him asking.

Arthur licked his lips as he fought a war in his mind between telling him the bits he remembered and not telling him, figuring it would be better for Ludwig simply not to know and for him because he wouldn't have to re-live it.

Finally; "I'll tell you what I remember."

"Arthur, you don't have to." Alfred protested. Arthur turned to look at him, his emerald eyes filled with love because Alfred had leapt to his defence despite it was his decision. He had longed for such an action of love to come from the American. Before this, he had long ago given up hoping.

"I want to." Arthur replied softly.

"Arthur..."

Arthur placed a hand on the side of Alfred's face. Alfred fell silent as he watched the smaller man. He could see shining bright in Arthur's eyes the attitude that created the British Empire. He could also see the British 'stiff upper lip'. No wonder Francis never won anything against Arthur, past and present; Arthur just would not give in. Alfred sighed in defeat and Arthur turned his attention back to Ludwig.

"Well … the nails are the obvious place to start." Arthur said as a half joke, his smile never reaching his eyes though. Alfred could see it was forced. Swallowing, Arthur pushed on. "A piece of metal was crudely shoved beneath each and an electric current passed through it". Arthur stared at his nails. "It was agony. It felt like it went on forever."

Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist and pressed himself up against his back. Arthur could feel Alfred's breath on his neck and the whispered words, 'I'm here' in his ear.

"They also strapped me down to a table and after forcing a wet cloth into my mouth, they poured buckets of water over my head. I had the instinct reaction that I was drowning. It sure felt like it. I made my wrists and ankles bleed with all the thrashing I was doing; though I wasn't aware of it at the time." Arthur pulled up one of his sleeves to reveal a red, angry wound on his wrist, coated in dried blood. Arthur felt Alfred's grip on his tighten.

As Arthur talked, his eyes never glazed over, but instead were haunted by the memories. Ludwig could tell as much as he watched him. When he spoke, in his head, he was reliving every moment. He also knew Alfred could tell because the American kept hushing Arthur every so often when his descriptions got quite vivid and he started to shake.

"Arthur … no more, please." Alfred told him eventually. He personally couldn't take no more.

Ludwig couldn't help but think that once they were out of there, Arthur was going to have some terrible nightmares for a while.

"Alfred is right." Ludwig agreed. He could see the relief on Alfred's face. "Thank you, Arthur."

Arthur nodded his head. Alfred moved in front of him and took him in his arms. "Never again. Never again." Arthur rested his head on his shoulder, but no tears fell. He feared for Alfred again, the terror this time amplified with knowledge.

Ludwig moved away and sat on the ground ungracefully, his head immediately coming to rest in his hands as he took several deep breaths as he processed the new information. He couldn't think of a way out of their predicament. He couldn't think of a way out of the cell. He couldn't do anything for Feliciano. He couldn't even defend the one he loved against an enemy. For the first time in a long time, he felt complete hopelessness wash over him and refuse to lift.

Ludwig's imagination took over, playing out his worst fears. Feliciano being submitted to what Arthur had been. The water torture not only horrified him, but led his imagination to the next step; dunking Feliciano's head in water and holding it there until he very nearly drowns and then pulling him back out. He swallowed his rage and tried to push the thoughts from his mind.

With his head buried in the crook of his arm, silent tears fell.

A/N: Wow! This story really has a backing. It has it's own little group of followers. I'm so proud and happy! Because it's taken off the way it has, I'm considering a sequel. ^o^ And sorry for the incredibly slow update. Prepare your in-boxes, there's going to be a deluge this next week.

Oh, and I'm in a chatty mood tonight...

**Car** – Haha. Oh dear! Sorry! I got the idea from my mum who was grilling toast, and when I say grill, I mean she was setting it on fire. I was stood watching thinking, 'I wonder what Gilbert would make of this?' Hahahaha. It must be incredibly obvious now that my mind wonders. Thanks again for the amazing review! **Lovingbird **– Oh yes. I put in a little twist that I originally never planned on including. US/UK are an awesome couple! And sorry for the slow update. School was being mean to me with lots of work. **Kami011** - I'm sorry but for some reason I have that effect on people. I make people confuse themselves. It's the beauty of being a ninja (like Ivan). I'm more of a FRUK but my profile doesn't reflect that yet. ^o^ **Hikarilightz **– What can I say other than Gilbert is awesome! And you jealous? You, my father, and 99% of everyone else I know. The photo's are going to be great, just me sprawled across that huge Mahayana Buddha complaining its too hot with a make shift fan. That's probably why everyone has suddenly added me on facebook. They all want to see the photo's of me suffering. ^_^.** Blue Seer **– Have no fear for Romano is going to play an amazing part coming up soon. Spain isn't going to know what to do with himself. ^o^ **Jawwenthevampire** – Pleasure to have provided the update on time! I'm clearly psychic. Hope you had a fab holiday! **A Glaceon name Cheeze** – What an awesome name! And yep, trust France to stun everybody. Thanks for the review!** Hugglestheknowitall** – Okay, maybe I'm not so psychic after all. Sorry. T_T Russia is not through with that guy just yet. I'm feeling kinda evil tonight. How did camping go? **Iaveina **– My French is shocking isn't it. ^o^ (I didn't pass French by the way – Francis would be horrified at me. Arthur is giving me a medal the size of a dustbin lid). I must have translated the only one where I wrote it right then. Oh dear. Must go and sort at some stage. I'm not in a hurry am I. Hahahaha. Make haste – nah, I'll think I'll walk. I've not come across many with an assertive Matthew, so I thought I would give it a whirl. People seem to like. **Tocool456** – Prussia grilling people's heads is the natural order of things. And thanks for the compliment.** Meluzina** – I love the concept of unrequited love at the moment. We were doing courtly love in English. Admiring from afar and putting the beloved on a pedestal. I just fell in love with the concept. Thanks for the review! **Axxi** - Psychos are interesting … and Gilbert has awesome hair. **Wolf of infinity** – I just love your reviews! I always wind up laughing. It's the energy and humour! I love it! Have no fear for Russia shall kick that cocky bastards ass! **PinkPanther123** – I'm scared of your friend! The concept of a Canadian wanting to be like Belarus...shudders. ^o^ Russia is a ninja and he is so sure of his stealth that he doesn't need to wear black. Tell your friend hiya from me … (aka, that strange lass with a vivid imagination from England). **StarGazer453** – I've made you feel sorry for France. I should stop writing right now and saviour my accomplishment. (not really - Wolf of Infinity would hunt me down and make me finish it a gun point. ^_^) . Thanks for the wonderful review. **Homura chan** – hahaha. France has competition. I want to see this fight. Thanks so much for the review. **Chrono-contract **– More Francis angst coming up! **Yume95** – Sadistic? Me and you both! ^o^.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Flying to Germany was a nightmare. This is especially true when it's second class and all the nations are squashed in like canned sardines.

"Gilbert, what are you failing to understand about the concept of personal space." Matthew asked casually.

"I just want to be near you." Gilbert smiled, his crimson eyes lighting up.

"But being near me does not include sitting in my lap. Get off." Just to prove that he meant it as well, Matthew shoved him off, sending Gilbert to the floor between Matthew's legs and the chair in front. Gilbert huffed unceremoniously as he picked himself back up. "And don't you dare bite me."

Gilbert dropped back into his seat next to Matthew's. "Being bored is so not awesome, and that stupid broad won't give me any beer. Bitch."

"Read a book then." Matthew retorted wishing he had been given a better seat.

"Thinking makes you ugly." Gilbert replied, his arms crossed over his chest as he slouched in his seat.

"No, that's sugar." Screw the brick wall, this was like dealing with a sulky kid. Matthew had to pull on all his experiences with Alfred to deal with Gilbert now. Surprisingly, Gilbert was surpassing Alfred.

When Gilbert didn't reply after several moments, Matthew counted it as conversation terminated and turned his attention to the sniffling Frenchman sat on his right.

Yep, could have been given a better seat.

Francis had not slept the entire previous night and it showed. His normally stunning blonde hair hung greasy and limp while dark bags were beneath his eyes. He blue eyes looked distant, his mind elsewhere. Matthew didn't need to ask to know that he was thinking about Arthur.

"Hey, Francis?" Matthew asked softly, shaking him lightly by the shoulder. Francis turned to look at him, his eyes glassy. "Never mind." Matthew decided to leave him alone. He had found in life that there was nothing worse than trying to make a person speak when they looked and felt like they were going to cry. The only thing worse was when the topic of conversation was about what they were upset about. Francis nodded his head at Matthew before turning his gaze back on the seat in front while his mind drifted again.

Matthew sat back and tried to relax. Francis was tearing himself up on the inside on one side of him while a sulky Prussian stewed on the other. Matthew wanted to sleep since Francis had kept him up most of the night before, but as he tried to drift off, all he could hear was the bickering of the other nations.

"Vash, how the fuck did you get _that _on board!" Matthew heard Roderich shout in a rather un-aristocratic way behind him as Vash produced his trusty hand gun. "Put it away! Put it away!" Matthew turned in his seat to watch the commotion.

"Like, how did you like totally do that?" Feliks asked as he leaned over the seat Vash was sat in to see. His blonde hair tickled Vash's nose and it was annoying him greatly. Vash responded by placing a hand on Feliks forehead and shoved him away. Felik's fell in Spain's lap.

"Please put it away!" Roderich's violet eyes wide with horror.

"Fine." Vash glared. Since there was no streaking Italian on the plane at that time, he wasn't feeling particularly trigger happy; though there was a rather annoying Austrian next to him.

"I don't see why you have to be so hostile?" Roderich commented as he finally relaxed when the gun was no longer in sight.

"For the last time Roderich, if someone hits you, twat them!" Vash growled, frustrated that despite all his efforts to toughen up the Austrian nation and to make him more war-like, Roderich was still a target for bullies.

Across the aisle Ivan was sat back in his seat content, smiling while Lithuania, Estonia and Latvia were sat in a line next to him trembling. "Think I dealt with that man good, da?"

"Oh yes, Ivan!" Toris nodded his head violently in agreement.

"Toris, like, how totally awesome it is to see you." Feliks sang as his head appeared between Toris and Raivis, causing Raivis to shriek. Ivan just kept smiling and freaking the trembling trio out even further. They never seemed to get a break.

"What did you do?" Raivis asked. Eduard nearly fainted with nerves and Toris froze.

Ivan kept smiling. "Left him tied up on some railway tracks. Good, da?"

"Genius!" Toris was nodding violently again, making Raivis nod with him.

"That's like, totally evil, you know." Feliks interjected and Toris shoved him back over the seats.

"So where are we going?"Raivis asked.

"Some obscure place in Germany that seems to be neglected on just about every map." Toris answered, watching Ivan out the corner of his eye. "Apparently, it's some Nazi underground bunker."

"R – r – really?" Raivis swallowed.

"Da." Ivan answered, the smile on his face growing, making all three of them swallow.

Feliks went back to his seat, Antonio paying him no attention as his full attention was on Romano. Usually, Antonio was unable to read situations, but with Romano looking like hell and resting against him while he slept, Antonio would have had to have been a particularly dumb robot to miss read that situation. Romano, like Francis, did not sleep the previous night. Neither had Antonio since Romano had cried into his clothing. Those hurt filled sobs still rang in his ears. Antonio was eternally grateful that Romano had finally found some piece even if it was just for a short while. As he sat with an arm around Romano, his free hand brushed through and played with the Italian's hair.

With his mind distracted with the young Italian, Antonio was missing all the free entertainment that the nations were putting on for one another as they continued to bicker and fall out.

"Give me beer, bitch!" Gilbert blasted down the plane. A few quiet laughs and snickers were emitted because of his out burst.

"Sir, may I remind you that you are on a aeroplane." The air hostess commented dryly.

"I know where I am! It doesn't mean you have to enforce beer abstinence on me though."

"I'm sorry miss, please forgive my friend. He's off his meds." Matthew intervened before Gilbert found himself being involved in a restraining order or worse, prison. The air hostess softened with Matthew's innocent charms.

"Thanks okay sir." She commented before leaving.

"What about my beer?" Gilbert shouted, outraged.

"If you behave I'll buy you a pint when we land." Matthew tried to appease. Gilbert looked at him before smiling.

"It's a date."

"No! No! No!" Matthew waved his hands in panic. "Not a date! Not a date!"

"Knew you couldn't resist me forever!" Gilbert shouted in triumph, punching the air. Matthew's head fell in his hands in defeat. God damn it! "I'm going to the bog!"

"Gilbert, I don't need news flashes every time your body does something. Keep it to yourself!" Matthew complained. Gilbert paid him no attention though and disappeared down the isle.

"Hello ladies!" He sang. This was quickly followed by a loud ouch as one of the air hostesses slapped him.

"He's quite a character." Francis commented, startling Matthew. Francis hadn't spoken to anyone for a long while.

"Yeah." Matthew agreed. The word Matthew was thinking off though was nutter.

"He likes you."

"How can you tell? He acts like this all day every day."

"You forget Matthew, I wield the shield of amour."

"The shield has a dent in it." Matthew commented quietly, thinking of Francis's upset.

"More of a gaping hole than a dent." Francis whispered. "Matthew, my nation is the nation of love. Gilbert may be a beer obsessed imbecile with delusions of awesomeness, but he is capable of love. If he wasn't, he wouldn't be here trying to get his brother back or hitting on you. Give him a chance. I think he genuinely likes you."

"You're right with the beer obsessed thing." Matthew commented. "The amount of trouble he's causing those poor air hostesses."

"That's for show. I think you will find he's distracting himself." Matthew looked at Francis questioningly. "If you were worried about some one you loved but couldn't do anything, wouldn't you try to distract yourself?"

"Yeah." Matthew nodded. "I'll show him a little more compassion."

Francis smiled a weak smile. "You're a good lad."

Matthew squeezed his arm before sitting himself back properly in his chair and closed his eyes. He tried to visualise himself somewhere else since sleep was avoiding him and he was now officially leading a bunch of gun totting, trigger happy, pissed off or just plain crazy nations. He tried to visualise himself nice beach, but that came to an end when he got eaten by a shark. He tried to imagine himself alone in some desolate but beautiful landscape, but that ended too when the golden arches appeared out of no where. '_Maple! McDonald's are freaking everywhere! Damn globalisation. When will they learn that Grouse do not want to eat burgers no matter how much Alfred thinks they do. Grouses do not eat dead cow served between bread'._ Trying again, he tried a remote waterfall. This time it actually worked. It just had to keep meeting one specific requirement – no bickering nations!

As Matthew began to drift off to sleep, Francis sat chewing his lip as memory after memory flashing through his mind. The first memory was a fond one, one he would never let go off...

"_You have grown L'Angleterre." Francis smiled from his position of leaning in the door way. "I remember when you were this big." He showed the size with his hand, having to bend his knees to get an approximate height. "I often wondered how such a fierce attitude could be contained in such a small package." _

_The young, blonde haired man turned to face him, a look of amusement in his eyes. "It's always the ones you don't expect." _

"_True." Francis answered chuckling, not believing how fast Arthur had grown in size. The last time he saw him he had looked about six years old. Now he looked around sixteen. That wasn't the only immediate thing that struck him though. His beauty was another. Slender figure, delicate frame, long legs, messy blonde hair, large emerald eyes and milk white skin. Everything was just … perfect. _

_Francis found himself staring. Arthur hadn't noticed though, his eyes and attention had drifted to his clothes. He didn't like royal events, but he was obligated to attend them so he put every effort into looking his best, especially since his boss would be there. _

"_L'Angleterre, you look beautiful." Francis commented sarcastically as he watched Arthur messing about with his clothes, despite the fact that he thought it was true. _

"_Don't patronise me, frog." Arthur shot back, a smile pulling at the side of his mouth. "As a guest you should be more polite, even thankful that you were invited at all."_

_Francis moved into the room as Arthur spoke, and sat down in a chair very close to him. Arthur spared him a glance before retreating to the other side of the room to collect the last item of clothing he needed for the evening. _

"_You're a natural stunner, why try so hard?" Francis asked as he reclined in the chair. _

_Arthur looked at him stunned. "Pardon?" _

"_You're a natural stunner, why try so hard?" Francis repeated, his voice even. Arthur couldn't think of an answer. Francis had only commented on his hair in the past, and a good half of that was mockery. This though had stopped Arthur because there was no trace of mockery in the Frenchman's voice. It sounded like a … a compliment. _

"_Err … thank you, I think." Arthur replied, feeling his cheeks and the tips of his ears burn with embarrassment. _

"_Nothing to thank me for. I just make an observation." _

_Francis sat forward as Arthur approached him. Arthur stood in front of him, making Francis look up. Without warning, Arthur leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his forehead. Francis looked up at Arthur, stunned. The Englishman rarely ever showed affection. _

"_Thank you." _

The second memory though was painful. One he would love to forget...

"_Now what did you go and do that for?" Arthur slurred with one eyebrow above the other, a drunken 'I am not amused' expression written across his face. _

"_You have had enough for tonight, L'Angleterre." Francis kept the bottle out of the Englishman's reach. Arthur was having none of that and tried to get the half full bottle back. _

"_Give it back frog! Of all the times you could choose to intervene, you chose today!" It was The 4__th__ of July._

"_Arthur, this can't go on." Francis stood up and, placing the bottle on a shelf that Arthur couldn't reach, ended the drinking session for the evening. Arthur looked like he was going to cry for a few moments, but that quickly morphed into anger. _

"_You froggy bastard!" Arthur shouted with venom at him as he tried to climb on to the work bench. Francis raced forward and wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist to drag him back off. He was in very real danger of falling off the side and hurting himself. "Put me down you French bastard!" Arthur cried out, waving his arms and legs, sending pots and pans among other stuff crashing to the ground. Francis lost his footing and toppled over backwards. He landed on the floor hard but he still kept a firm hold on Arthur. _

"_Stop waving your arms, you're hurting me." Francis said after Arthur's hand connected with his nose. _

"_Good!" Arthur snarled and hit him in the nose again. _

_Sitting up, Francis removed his arms from around Arthur's waist and quickly grabbed Arthur's wrists before he could twist and pound him into the dirt. Arthur thrashed but soon wore himself out as the alcohol continued to assault his brain. His actions became less coordinated until he stopped struggling completely. _

_Francis was weary of a trap and remained gripping the Englishman's wrists tightly for several __minutes before he found enough confidence to shift himself into a more comfortable position. Arthur sat with his chin on his chest. When Francis moved he didn't even look up. _

"_L'Angleterre?" Francis asked, thinking he had hurt him during the scuffle. Arthur didn't respond. Francis sat down beside him and pulled him to him with an arm around his shoulders. Arthur didn't resist and allowed Francis to pull him into an embrace. _

"_Arthur … I ..." Francis began. _

"_Why did you help him?" Arthur looked up at him, his eyes filled with pain and loss. _

_Francis felt the word 'love' die on his tongue. He couldn't say, 'so I could have you all to my self'. That was the night he realised that Alfred was the one who had Arthur's heart, not he. _

A/N: Garrhh! Poor Francis! I'm upset with myself for writing that! Has anyone seen (with the exception of Shineoncindi – I know you have because I showed you it) the motivation poster of the Francis look alike on American Idol? That was awesome! I laughed so hard I fell off my bed. If you haven't and wish to, tell me and I shall send you the link! It's one of those that simply should not be missed! Also, with the first flashback for France, I'm going to write that one out as a separate slash story.

**Iaveina** – French at A-Level? Are you brave or mad? ^o^ I've decided you're brave for taking it. If I had taken it, then I would have been mad. Besides, I didn't pass it in the first place so what am I going on about. Oh! T-shirts! **Pinkpanther123** – I know, Arthur just keeps getting beaten up doesn't he. It is always the quiet ones isn't it. That might explain why people avoided me like I had the plague or something when I was younger. **Tocool456** – Thanks so much for the review and compliment.** Meluzina** – a Feliciano/Ludwig hurt comfort scene is coming up. Unfortunately it's not the next chapter. Sorry. I wish I could write faster because I really want to write it. **Yume95** – Your English is amazing! I've looked at your profile; you're French aren't you? Certain words jumped out at me as being French. (I'm not a wiz with languages no matter how much I kid myself). I'm so envious of you for being able to communicate in a second language. Thank you so much for the great reviews. **Axxi **– Torture = dance! Well, for us two maybe. ^_^ **lovingbird **– one update for your enjoyment. And Feliciano will turn back up, have no fear! ^o^ I'm not killing off any adorable Italians this time round. **Wolf of Infinity** – YOU'RE BACK! Sorry – I have random outbursts like that from time to time. Also, I think the next evil tyrant that has plans on world domination will be reading your review. Check list for ruling world – look innocent! Obsessive fan girls from Norway will leave me alone. ^o^ **Jawwenthevampire** – food for the inbox. I'm hoping one a day next week. I'm on work experience so no homework. (Famous last words). **Hinajiki **– Thank you so much for the great review and compliments. **Homura chan** – You are now an honorary Officer in Arthur's guerilla fan girl army! **Car **– Your reviews are always loved! And the deviant art work based on your story is amazing! I found another one last night and I was hammering my keyboard yelling, "favourite!" **Hugglestheknowitall** – quite a workout you did there. When you said chips, I thought you meant a bag of fish and chips. I'm slow sometimes. It's only when my bro walked past eating a bag of crisps did I realise what you meant. ^o^ Some serious Russia time is coming up! Chant him in! **Diynomyte –** Oh wow, thank you. And I completely understand the yaoi thing. I had a author contact me a few months back just to ask why I wrote it. I don't even know how I got into it. It was the reason I found though. Thank you so much for the fabulous, cracking review! **Chrono-contract** – I agree - "No Italy no!


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"Don't you think it's about time we hatched a plan of some description?" Arthur asked as he sat with his knees up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them.

"Yeah! This could be like one of those great escape stories." Alfred supplied as he paced the cell. "No obvious way out, but a genius plan executed by a hero would go down in the history books!"

"Alfred." Arthur frowned.

"Sorry." Alfred said. "It still kinda slips out." He was relieved to see Arthur roll his eyes good humouredly.

"We're not leaving without Feliciano." Ludwig stated.

"We're all leaving together." Arthur confirmed.

Alfred remembered his words to Ludwig. '_We're all leaving together; Arthur included.' _"We already have a plan, remember Ludwig?" He interjected. "We were going to jump the captors."

"Looking at our situation that still stands." Arthur replied coolly, concluding that the plan must have been formed when he had been taken. "Are we going to be clichéd and steal their clothes as well?"

"Hell to the yeah!" Alfred cried excitedly, the prospect of finally getting out thrilling him, not to mention that some petty revenge seemed to be on the cards.

"While we have some insanity left; what do we do if one person is missing when we find the perfect time to make a break for it?" Ludwig asked, making Arthur smirk with his choice of words. The effort was wasted on Alfred.

"We go looking for them."Alfred answered in a 'matter of fact' tone. Arthur nodded in agreement, but it left to many open ended questions and possibilities for his liking. He chose simply not to think about them and if it came to going in search of someone, then he would put everything down to luck and fate. He really couldn't do much else. "I don't think there is much else really to say." Alfred finally said.

"It's a straight forward plan, few slight issues that can be overcome, and it could spell success". Ludwig agreed. "However, there is one thing bothering me."

"Like?" Alfred asked.

"Isn't it predictable? Me personally, I would be expecting such a desperate attempt, especially when dehydration and starvation start to set in."

Alfred stopped pacing, a worried look flashed across his face. "Damn." He flopped down next to Arthur. "It's useless. Everything we do is useless."

"Don't be so defeatist!" Arthur told him. "Anything's possible."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. You're living proof of that. I thought that your were going to be a air headed imbecile with a hero complex for the rest of your life. During the time we've been here though, you've proved me wrong so many times I should just throw in the towel and claim I don't know you and reintroduce myself." Alfred smiled at Arthur's harmless insults and compliment.

"Thanks." Alfred sighed. "I just wish I was the one to save you, to save us." Alfred thought for a moment. "Us includes Ludwig and Feliciano you know?"

Arthur chuckled lightly. "I know." He smiled before placing a light kiss on Alfred's cheek. "And thanks for the thought."

Each fell into a natural silence, their individual minds drifting. Ludwig's focused purely on Feliciano while Arthur's mind focused on the further development of the plan that he had just learned about and Alfred's mind kept replying Arthur's words when he described what they had done to him.

The natural silence was pleasant to begin with, but soon it went on so long that it became uncomfortable. Each wanted one of the others to speak, to say something, to break the tension that was in the air. No one did though. No one could decided on a subject of conversation. Alfred nearly demanded a burger, but remembered that not only had Arthur and Ludwig both not eaten, but it was likely that food was not forthcoming in the future. Starvation seemed a good method of torture that covered each one of them. They might get little bits of food though to keep them alive in constant agony. Alfred, after thinking it through, decided that food was not a good topic of conversation.

Footsteps in the distance though made Ludwig jump up from the ground. They were faint, but he heard them. Only seconds later Alfred heard them, and then Arthur, both getting to their feet in anticipation. The plan might be put into action sooner than they had thought.

The door of the cell creaked open and Feliciano's limp body was chucked in. Ludwig looked mortified, leaving Alfred speechless but alert. He had already seen a fair few times when the German's temper switch between anger and horror. He seemed a lot like a light switch on a bed room wall at times, his emotions switched fast and without warning.

Ludwig, as predicted, switched from horror to blazing anger and was just about to attack the assailants when Alfred raced behind him and restrained him. Alfred fought with Ludwig as the German tried to escape his grip. There were too many assailants to taken on and win. The plan simply had to wait to be initiated.

"Let go of me." Ludwig growled, the plan forgotten and the only thing on his mind was Feliciano and revenge.

"We only have one chance." Alfred snarled in a whisper so only the German could hear him. Ludwig fell silent but none the less felt the urgent need to beat the living shit out of the men who had taken his Feliciano, the very men who now stood jeering at them. He could only take so much.

Arthur went and knelt next to the fallen Italian, his hands immediately checking for a pulse and other signs of life. He also did a quick assessment of Feliciano's unconscious form. Nothing seemed to have been done to him. He looked exactly the same. No new bruises, no cuts or signs of beatings or torture. There was nothing he had come to expect to see after his own experience. He still had a high fever but that was it.

A frightening thought then occurred to him.

In a swift set of actions by an assailant, Arthur found himself suddenly on his feet, being restrained by a man much taller and broader than he was. He also had a gun pressed hard, angled up, under his chin, making him tilt his head back painfully far.

Alfred let go of Ludwig who had also fallen still because of shock. None of them had seen that coming. Arthur was kicking himself for being such a fool to fall for it.

"Alfred, stay away." He commanded, only to have the safety catch on the gun flicked off. "Do as I say!" He commanded again as Alfred looked unsure of himself. Alfred flinched with the tone of Arthur's voice; it reminded him of a time before he separated from England. Arthur had never stayed mad at him for long though, no matter what he did or who he nearly killed.

"Arthur..." Alfred whispered.

"No." Arthur shook his head as much as he could. "It's a trap. It always was."

"You'll do it if you love him and don't want to see his brains splattered all over the ceiling." The man holding Arthur snarled.

Alfred looked from Arthur to his attacker and possible executioner. He saw defiance in Arthur's eyes, his body language, even the way his mouth was set. However, when he looked to the assailant, he saw a blood lust and an intent on murder. Since Arthur was the one with the gun pressed up hard under his chin, Alfred naturally feared for his life.

"I'm sorry Arthur." Alfred said sadly.

"What? Alfred, what are you doing?" Arthur looked panicked. "Alfred, don't!"

"Clever boy." The man sneered behind him.

"Sorry Arthur, I can't let them hurt you again." Alfred smiled weakly. Arthur wanted to scream.

Alfred moved forward and willingly allowed two of the men to grab him by the arms and take him out the cell. He didn't put up any resistance, Arthur still having the gun under his chin. He knew it was kept there to keep him in line, but even then he wouldn't be disobedient. Anything to keep Arthur safe. When Arthur was safe though, he planned on being hell for them. As they led him out the cell though, he wished Arthur would stop following him with his eyes. He could feel the disappointed in the gaze along with his horror.

"Let him go." Alfred said once he was outside the cell. The assailant smirked before pushing Arthur hard in the middle of the back. Alfred grimaced, knowing Arthur was not meant to bend that way. He tripped over Feliciano's still unconscious body and went tumbling to the ground. Being defiant by nature, Arthur stood back up again, only to find the cell door had been closed and locked again. Ludwig raced forward and took Feliciano in his arms, assessing the damage done to his Italian love.

Alfred started to get a little worried. They weren't moving. The assailants just looked at one another, the occasional head nodded in some unspoken agreement. That was when he saw the gun reappear. Alfred began to fight, but when a shot rang out, amplified by the walls of the cell, Alfred stopped fighting, his blue eyes wide in shock and horror as his whole world crashing down around him.

Arthur looked over at the damp, red patch forming on his shoulder. What little colour was left in his face drained. He looked up at Alfred and, with a single lone tear rolling down his cheek, he whispered; "I love you."

"Arthur?" Alfred stared in disbelief before reality came crashing back down on him. "ARTHUR!"

A/N: How evil of me to leave it there. Arthur, stop getting shot! _Arthur: Hey, you're the bloody twat writing this, not me – git! _Fine, you're off the hook this time. ^o^

**Hinajiki** – The answer to your question will be up in the next few chapters. And thank you for the wonderful compliment and review. **StarGazer453 **– my aim in life is to make your mum give you funny looks. ^o^ Not really, but I'm delighted you found it funny! **PinkPanther123** – I think the makers of Hetalia should consider doing a strip with all the nations on a plane. Hilarity will ensue, and the poor air hostesses can't yell, "STOP THE PLANE!" I think there's now a competition between our families to see which is the most weird and insane. ^o^ Don't change your style of reviews please! I just love them! **Random – Maple – Edits** – I agree, Pru/Can is adorable! **Kittymini200** – thank you for the fabulous compliment and review! **Axxi **– I can tell you're shattered. Nothing more needs to be said other than 'I like Gilbert. That is all'. Speak the truth and the masses (Okay, okay, just me) will follow. **Wolf of Infinity** – I'm happy that I've made an obsessive Norwegian fan girl happy. And you know I always love your reviews! I look forward to getting them! **Kami011** – I've seen it! Ivan! Yeah! Russia was already in my top five and all that's done is set my decision in stone! (In order, Arthur, Francis, Gilbert, Matthew and Ivan). Threesome? Not this story I'm afraid. Lol. I will admit though, I had a laughter fail when I read that line. **Meluzina** – You! You reviewed 'Still Alive'! I freaking love you! This is round about the time you tell me to calm down and have a cup of tea. Hahahaha. And don't worry, Elisabeth is turning up in the next chapter, and she is sporting one mean, bad ass attitude. **Hikarilightz** - I am delighted that you found those lines amusing! I think Gilbert has been a handful since the beginning. I feel sorry for both Matthew and Ludwig. They both have to put up with him. **Car **– I didn't realise it was the 4th July when I wrote that! Just one more thing in this life that has gone over my head. Hahaha. Listen to Car Mattie, run to Gilbert! Run! **Diynomyte** – If my answer is still in my outbox I'll send it to you separately. And wow! If people are feeling sorry for Francis then I've done my job right. ^o^ **Yume95** – Through MSN you know of my love for Arthur and Francis. We're talking on it as I'm uploading this update now. ^_^ **Jawwenthevampire** – I shall feed your scary in box some more delicious emails in return that he leaves me alone. ^_^ **lovingbird** – I have everything planned out – which is quite remarkable for me really considering I usually just hack my way through things and hope for the best. Thanks for the fabulous review.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Matthew had never thought that he would see the day when Gilbert would hide from some one in terror. However, that day had arrived as Gilbert not only hid behind him, but dragged him all around the airport terminal in an attempt to not be seen by Elisabeth. He had plans to use him as a shield and even hopped on and rode the luggage carousel in an attempt to remain undetected. He went round twice, each time miming actions to Matthew to keep his presence on the down low.

Matthew sighed for the millionth time that week.

"Elisabeth, Gilbert's behind you." He gave an innocent smile. Elisabeth turned to find Gilbert giving her a weak smile and a small wave as he went past, resting on his back and Gilbird perched on top of his messy platinum hair.

_When did Gilbird appear? And why hasn't airport security tried to arrest his ass yet? Freaking hell he's he's already committed assault, what more do they want? ABH? GBH? Murder? _

"Elisabeth, be nice." Gilbert faked amusement. Matthew could see he was terrified of the pan wielding nation. He had been on the wrong side of her too often not to have some kind of rational fear of her.

"I'm not going to hit you." Elizabeth smiled, the gleam in her eye though reading _'unless you try anything with Roderich' . _Thatscared both Gilbert and Matthew. Roderich had a good ally in her.

While Gilbert failed to get off the carousel in time and had to go round again, Elisabeth told Matthew that she had found weapons and transport to aid their pursuit. Transport included two huge German one ton lorry and a third smaller lorry with all the weapons they needed to successfully start world war three; not that anyone had that in mind that is.

"Wait; you have your own army." Matthew spoke as Gilbert climbed back off the carousel, looking suspiciously at the airport guards watching nearby.

"Do you know how much it costs to go to war?" Elisabeth asked, shocked. She was very conscious of her citizens and the state of her economy. She always put national interest first, even if it meant being more than a little cheeky to the odd German to get her way.

"I know war costs." Matthew shook his head finding it all very amusing. Then had a horrible thought. "Please don't tell me you have the entire German army stood waiting outside!"

"No, don't be silly. It's Ludwig's money I'm spending, not Gilbert's."

"Hey." Gilbert protested. "You're talking about me. The least you could do it let me know what about. And what about this drink I was promised?"

"We have no time for drinks!" Elisabeth cried, making Gilbert jump back a foot and Matthew feel relieved. Unexpected help was always the best. "We have transport! We leave now! They need us!" She cried in what Matthew perceived to be a battle cry before taking off.

"Come on." Matthew said to Gilbert before following. Why they went to the baggage carousel was a major question. What small amount of luggage they had was going to be taken to a hotel nearby anyway. Matthew put it down to Gilbert's desperate attempt at escaping from Elisabeth. "Please don't tell me you're scared of her?"

"She's evil." Gilbert retorted. "Devil's daughter."

"Elisabeth is no such thing. Just because you tormented Roderich once too often and she beat you off does not make her evil. It makes her a caring, loving individual."

"She's something out the Grimm fairy tales." Gilbert growled.

"I can't talk to you in this mood."

"Buy me a beer?" Gilbert hinted.

"Your mood isn't that bad; and we haven't time." Matthew answered before grabbing Gilbert's arm, (always conscious that it was his arm and not his hand so he grilled himself when he felt a little colour go to his cheeks), and dragged him outside the airport. Gilbert smirked all the way, Gilbird doing a odd, yet amusing, victory dance at the airport security that had never stopped looking at them.

Outside, three German army issue wagons stood waiting; the nations crowding around them.

"My bro was always good at war." Gilbert shrugged, gasps of astonishment concerning the variety of weapons now on hand washing over him as nations went rummaging through the back of the third lorry. "I should know." He concluded; pride in his eyes.

"This is a good weapon, da?" Came Ivan's voice followed by cries of distress and hysteria. Matthew turned to see Ivan holding up a Bazooka, a child like expression on his face while every nation around him was huddled in crouched positions behind what ever they could find. "Can I have this weapon, da?"

"Sure." Gilbert supplied. "Just remember who you're aiming it at though." Ivan just laughed. Matthew felt chills go down his spine. That could not be good. For a second he thought that Gilbert was off his head; then he remembered he had always been like that. Well, for as long as he had known him.

"Everyone take what weapon you find suits you best." Gilbert instructed before grabbing Matthew and leaving the other nations to figure out what they wanted. Vash forced Roderich to wear a bandoleer full of ammunition before shoving the gun for it into his hands. Roderich looked less than happy. Elisabeth, being well versed in war, armed herself to the point anyone was surprised she could walk, and Romano attitude suddenly took a change for the worse as he picked up a RPG. Antonio had to struggle it away from him after a shouted explanation that the concussion wave would kill them. Francis, subtly and without anyone else noticing, stashed two small silent Russian imported firearms under his clothing.

"Like oh my god, it's so compact and totally light." Feliks voice rang out in amusement as Gilbert proceeded to drag Matthew further away from them.

"Gilbert, what is the matter now?"

"I'm not happy with you going with us." He replied, serious.

"You're letting Elisabeth go." Matthew argued. Gilbert pressed his lips together, frustrated.

"Not the point." He eventually shot back.

"Gilbert, what is this really about?" Matthew asked, Francis's words coming back to haunt him.

Gilbert leant forward and pressed his lips to Matthew's. Matthew was stunned rigid. Francis's words had never prepared him for that. Leaning back and holding Matthew's shoulders tightly with his hands, Gilbert studied the younger nation. "I might not be able to defend you if something goes wrong." He confided. Matthew was stunned yet again by how serious Gilbert was. He was no longer this jeering, red eyed demon Matthew had come to think of him as. He looked as though he cared. "I can't stop you though." He sounded defeated.

Gilbert turned and walked away, leaving Matthew stood confused. Okay, Francis was right, but what was that?

_Did I just get a rare insight into Gilbert? _

Matthew asked himself this over and over as he rejoined the other nations. Those who could put aside in their minds what they were about to do were enjoying the prospect of 'new toys'. Ivan had not put down the Bazooka yet.

"Come on girls! In the trucks!" Gilbert shouted.

_Back to normal I see. _Matthew observed as Gilbert took a step back from Elisabeth as he made her way to get into the first truck. "Mattie, you coming?" Gilbert shouted, his crimson eyes shining with the prospect of entertainment and arrogance again.

_He's either a good actor or extremely dense. _Matthew concluded as he climbed in. He found himself sat once more between Francis and Gilbert. However, this time Francis wasn't weeping. He sat straight backed and staring. Matthew gave him a worried look but didn't say anything.

"Natalia is here?" Ivan asked, the smile suddenly leaving his face as he over heard Toris.

"Yeah. She's in the other truck though." Elisabeth filled in. "Why?"

Ivan pulled himself back together, his memory too good for his current liking. "No reason, just wondering." He replied. When the trucks started moving he was relieved because that meant she couldn't swap trucks and chuck Toris out of his seat so she can hound him into marrying her.

"May I inquire into how the German army allowed us to use all this equipment?," Roderich suddenly had an inspiring thought. "Especially considering you are no longer a nation Gilbert, and thus wield no political power."

Gilbert scowled with the last sentence. "Always the cynic."

"I was getting a little curious about the drivers actually." Matthew chipped in, remembering the perfect German they spoke, but looked confused when he spoke English and Ivan spoke Russian. Actually, the Russian scared them and made them go on the defensive. It was fortunate that none of them were trigger happy.

"I authorised it." Gilbert shrugged and Gilbird squawked in agreement.

"You authorised it?" Vash asked, his eyes narrowing. "Isn't Ludwig meant to sign his name on the official document, not you."

"I faked it."

"You faked your brothers signature?" Matthew looked horrified.

"The bitch had frying pans!" Gilbert nearly screamed in protest while pointing at Elisabeth. The sight of Roderich enjoying himself a little too much grated on his last nerve. "Austrian twat." He muttered ill humouredly under his breath. Flinching when he thought Elisabeth had over heard. Luckily enough she hadn't. She was too busy staring at Roderich in a love struck, teenage girl way. Matthew fought back the comment, 'someone pass her a drool bucket'.

The nations the lapsed into silence, conversation avoiding them. Each were frightened of what they might find. That was the problem with begin nations; they had lived long enough to see the insane reach the top, and to remember the damage and destruction they had caused. This played on their minds.

Matthew looked out the back of the lorry. All he saw was the cold twilight and the trees looking intimidating and spooky. It was really stereotypical of a bad horror film and this did not escape his attention.

When the lorry came to a halt, Elisabeth was the first out, leaping to the side of the road and waiting for the rest to join her. They armed themselves with the last of the weapons needed before setting of into the woods. Elisabeth led the way with a map and compass. The German soldiers they had borrowed from their other duties remained with the trucks in case someone know they were coming and an attack from the rear might happen. None of them needed the transport sabotaged, especially when the missing nations might need medical attention fast.

"For all the equipment in those trucks, why didn't you bring a GPS?" Gilbert asked.

"Because of sod's law. It wouldn't work!" Elisabeth argued. Made sense.

When they reached the edge of the woods as it gave way to a new clearing, they stopped. The nations who were well versed with war or just fancied a stretch of the legs disappeared. Gilbert, Vash, Natalia (who simply followed Ivan much to his despair) and Elisabeth. Roderich knelt next to Matthew while they waited.

"No camera's anywhere." Gilbert stated, shocking them by appearing silently next to them.

"I couldn't find any either." Vash agreed as he dropped down next to them again.

"Now that's decided, we can go forward." Gilbert said before pressing into the open land between the trees and the bunker. Every nation gasped and Vash hurled abuse at him. Nothing came of Gilbert's recklessness though and he reached the bunker without stepping on a land mine, tripping over any trip wires, setting any form of bomb off or being shot at.

It was a good start.

The nations followed suit and crowded around the door, itching just to get what had to be done over with. Gilbert even went as far as to give them a small parting speech. Matthew could tell he had fought in many wars simply by the way he handled himself and how he spoke. It sent chills up his spine as he listened.

When it was over, it was time to go in.

A/N: ABH = Actual bodily harm. GBH = Grievous bodily harm. Law terms. ^o^ Right, off to Hong Kong for me. See You later! I have run out of time to write personal thanks. Sorry!


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Alfred watched with panic stricken eyes as Arthur's shirt and jacket turned blood red.

_"I love you."_

_"I love you." _

_"I love you."_

Arthur's face went ghost white.

"ARTHUR!" Alfred bellowed and fought to get back to him. The assailants had anticipated this and one swift punch between the eyes rendered Alfred not unconscious, but close enough to it for them to man handle him away without a raging battle. Spying on Alfred had gained them valuable information; mainly that he was the strongest. The rest of them could be dealt with a lot easier than him.

Ludwig had watched Arthur be shot and felt his blood run cold. He knew this was crunch time. Hysteria or no hysteria (which had predominantly been on Alfred's part seeing Arthur was now beginning to show signs of shock and Feliciano was just starting to come around), the plan had to go ahead now. Ludwig would rather die fighting than just sitting and admitting defeat.

Jumping up, he ran forward past Arthur to the bars of the cell and grabbed one of the assailants. He had kept an eye on that one in particular as he had the keys to the cell door. He brought him hard against the bars and, grabbing the assailants head, shoved it hard into the bars before proceeding to steel the keys. The assailant dropped to the ground unconscious. Most of the assailants present were dealing with a semi conscious Alfred, trying to drag him away and restrain him at the same time. Two managed to break off from the group. Something was shouted in Russian.

Ludwig had wasted no time in reaching the cell door and, thrusting the key into the lock, opened it and attacked the first assailant who rushed at him. The second, with the commands given in Russian, rushed around the side and into the cell. He grabbed Arthur and dragged him out the cell. Arthur, still trying to register what was going on, put up minimal resistance.

"Arthur!" Ludwig bellowed, surprised to see the Englishman being dragged past him. He spared a quick look to Feliciano, who was still on the ground, frightened that he too had been taken. Seeing the Italian still laid there relaxed him some and allowed his mind to clear. In desperate situations he believed that when everyone else goes mad and starts freaking out, he himself must not. He must keep his head, think clearly, and that way he would be able to get himself out of any situation. However, if Feliciano had been taken, then the state of a clear mind that he was seeking to achieve would have been thrown out the window and he would have gone into a blind rage. Good news for the assailant. Ludwig in a blind rage tends to equal people in three bits.

By the time that Ludwig had reduced the assailant to a heap of unconscious meat on the ground, Arthur was no longer in sight and Alfred had been carried off too. The assailant that he had originally grabbed for the keys groaned. Ludwig kicked him hard in the stomach, making the man lean over, gasping.

"Serves you right." Ludwig growled with no compassion before returning to Feliciano's side. He carried the Italian out the cell before resting him on the ground. His thinking for that was so that no one could sneak up on them and lock them back in. Now they were out, Ludwig wanted to stay out.

"Feli? Feli?" Ludwig shock him slightly, always conscious about his strength. "Feliciano?"

"Doitsu." Feliciano breathed as his eyes opened and came to rest on Ludwig.

"What did they do to you?" Ludwig asked desperately.

"I want to go home." Feliciano whispered.

"We're going. I promise!" Ludwig kissed him to seal it. Picking up the Italian, Ludwig began to pace down the corridors, his mind always alert to the littlest noise and his muscles tense. No one was going to gain the upper hand on him again.

…

Arthur was dragged not too far away from where Alfred was, and where he had been not too long before. He found himself slammed up against the wall, the face of assailant before him, unmasked and not all that pretty either. He felt numb. Regardless, he remembered Alfred and that he was the one and single most important thing to him at that time.

Arthur felt his pirate side resurface. Before, he thought he had buried it long ago (which was a great relief to Antonio), but now with his beloved being subjected to torture and possibly death, he felt the old feeling return, coursing through his veins and making his fingers twitch.

This guy was about to understand why Pirate Captain Arthur Kirkland had made grown men tremble by the very mention of his name.

As the assailant reached out to grab Arthur's hair, he reacted on instinct and kicked the assailant hard in the crotch.

"Ommffftt." The assailant went to his knees. Arthur swiftly kneed him in the face. He forgot about his wound as his imagination played to him over and over what they could be doing to Alfred. The images of him writhing in pain, blood dying his blonde hair and his blue eyes filled with pain. It was too much to take.

Arthur lined himself up to deal him another blow when his legs were ripped out beneath him, sending him crashing to the floor. He recovered quickly and kicked the assailant off the top of him, not noticing the move for the gun shot wound. Arthur flung himself down on top of the attacker, trying to rip at his face with his nails. He bit back the pain that went shooting through him as his nails ripped the assailant's cheeks to pieces. Arthur then went for his eyes, his nails covered in blood, when the assailant flipped them both back over and thrust his fingers into Arthur's wound.

The pain was blinding for Arthur as he writhed beneath the assailant. The intensity of the pain coursing all across his body made him scream out in both shock and agony.

"You _will_ scream and you_ will_ beg for mercy!" The assailant smirked maliciously, before twisting his fingers and causing Arthur to howl in pain again. "Scream, let that imbecile hear you. He's just over there, let him know you're here!" He twisted his fingers further. Tears started to flow down Arthur's face as the pain sent him tittering on the edge of unconsciousness. His screams tore his throat raw again.

Keeping his fingers in the wound, the assailant produced a hand gun with his free hand and pressed it hard under Arthur's chin, angled up.

"Once more for old time's sake." The assailant smirked and twisted his fingers again. Arthur let out one last scream, blood from his throat coating his teeth.

A gun shot echoed off the walls.

A/N: Well, I've never written anything in another country before. Hahaha. I hope you like the update! And thank you all for wishing me a fabulous time in Hong Kong. It is stunningly beautiful!

Firstly; for everyone who reviewed my second to previous chapter, thank you so much and don't panic! Same for this chapter in advance. I know what I am doing, (I think).

**Hinajiki **– thank you for your kind words. When I uploaded it I was about to be rushed out the door so I thought, stuff it if it's wrong! If it is I'll amend it when I arrive. At least I haven't left the document on my computer at home. Your review has silenced so many worries I had on the flight. Petty worries considering the plane could have crashed and I didn't spare that a single thought, but ha! Ambivalent is the best way to go. Thanks again for the wonderful review. **Meluzina **– thank you for the fab review. I like to know when people want more, mainly because it means I've not made a complete hash of it! **Wanderingnote – **wow thank you! I didn't think much when I put them in! but its ever so lovely to hear that someone has noticed them and thinks their splendid! **Loving bird **– hope this chapter lived up to your expectations. **Diynomyte **– Heroic music has been inserted! Go nations go! **Pinkpanther123 **– I know, we should put a ban on Ivan having bazookas. Safer for all that way. **Axxi** – more torture has been delivered. ^o^ **StarGazer453** – thank you for the great wish and review! **Wolf to infinity** – I was very undecided if that was the time for Gilbert to finally buck up his ideas and make a move; then I thought sod it! The readers deserve a little something for following this as they have! ^_^ - **Chrono-contract** – I got an awesome! I'm up there with Gilbert. **Yume95** – oh yes, Gilbert is very much afraid of Elisabeth. Hahahaha.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

"The door's fucking locked!"

"What you mean it's locked? Haven't we just got through one door? I thought that was the only one."

"Well, I regret to inform you there's FUCKING TWO!" Gilbert looked as though he was head banging while simultaneously trying to pound the door into the dirt out of frustration.

"Gilbert, calm down." Matthew tried to sooth as he elbowed Vash out the way. "That door is harder than you are and it will win."

"Nonsense Mattie! Nothing is harder than me!" Gilbert shouted before promptly head butting the door. With a dull thud, Gilbert was clutching his head on the ground. Matthew rolled his eyes before noticing the lock code on the door.

You had to be kidding!

Reaching over, Matthew left the numbers as they were and leant on the door hard, causing it to swing open.

"Don't say a fucking word!" Gilbert ground out as he distinctly heard some snickers coming from behind him.

Matthew pushed in ahead of everyone else. He stepped into the gloom of the corridor and he could taste the dampness on the air. He heard the word "stealth' behind him and individually more nations followed him in. Gilbert took over as the leader as he silently waved some nations to remain at the rear in case of attack from that direction while he and Vash took the lead. Other nations were motioned to search rooms they passed to make sure they missed nothing. Matthew could only watch with awe as Gilbert showed off his skills of leader ship without realizing it.

Despite there being many of them, stealth was exactly what they achieved. The mark of this success was that they continued in this fashion of checking rooms and moving forward deeper into the bunker without alerting anyone to their presence. Matthew was considering this an incredibly good start.

However, what ever good humor there might have been from this success dissolved on the sight that met their eyes as the group bunched up, the leaders having stopped to stare in horror after rounding a corner.

Ludwig stood before them cradling a barely conscious Feliciano in his arms.

Romano was the one who broke the silence by yelling his brother's name and running forward, ripping him from Ludwig's arms before dissolving into tears. The other nations began to mutter amongst themselves.

Gilbert walked forward and stood looking at his brother, his eyes round with shock. Although Ludwig looked a damn sight better than Feliciano did, he still looked bad. His normally well kept blonde hair was disheveled and the grey complexion of his skin had stopped Gilbert in his tracks. There were simply too many things out of place about Ludwig that, despite not being able to put his finger on most of them, he could see them plainly.

Suddenly springing back to life, Gilbert pulled Ludwig to him and hugged him tightly. Nobody but Matthew noticed the single lone tear that ran down his pale cheek. Matthew was hypnotized by it. That one lone tear spoke a thousand words to him as he watched it progress down the Prussian's cheek. That one lone tear symbolized his worry, love and anguish he felt for his brother. It symbolized something Gilbert would never put into words to anybody. The tear was a rare insight to Gilbert's emotions that he so sought to bury behind his harsh, often vulgar words and demands that others should worship his awesomeness.

On witnessing that one lone tear which was symbolic of so much, Matthew fell in love.

Gilbert whispered to Ludwig in German. No one over heard them, but the words whispered were ones of the anguish that he had felt. Ludwig knew his brother cared, but this sudden affectionate behavior had caught him of guard and brought tears to his eyes. He buried his face into the Prussian's neck to hide them.

Many of the other nations turned their attention to Feliciano who now rested in his brothers arms, finding the actions between the two brothers slightly embarrassing to watch. As the two parted, Matthew could see the strength of the bond between the two brothers. They could grate on each others nerves at times like cheese graters, but when it mattered, they were there for one another. Matthew felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment because he had witnessed such a private moment.

"Lovino?" Feliciano questioned as he rested in his brother's arms. Romano had sunk to the ground, tears of pain and relief pouring down his face in torrents. He felt Antonio's presence next to him but didn't give the Spaniard a second look as his attention was only for his brother.

"I'm here Feli." He said as he bit back a sob. He couldn't find the malice bone in his body that he always used on Antonio to keep him at arms length. With his brother seriously ill and drifting in and out of consciousness, Romano could only find words of comfort on the end of his tongue.

"We have to get him out of here now." Antonio spoke, a note of urgency residing in his voice even after he had fought it level.

Elisabeth dropped to her knees next to Feliciano and started brushing her hand delicately through his hair. "How long as he been sick like this?" She asked as he produced some water for him.

"We've lost track of time." Ludwig informed in an emotionless voice. Everyone knew it was forced.

"A long time, would you say?" Rodreich asked from his side.

"Yes." Ludwig replied, almost as though he was on auto pilot. Kiku could see this and moved to his friend's side and rested a hand on his shoulder, despite the German towering above him in height.

"Are you going on Gilbert? Roderich?" Kiku asked as he looked at both nations.

"Damn fucking right I am. I'm going to dish out some serious retribution! The awesome me will not stand for any of this!" Gilbert said with venom after a fleeting glance at his brother.

"Despite the lack of eloquence demonstrated by my friend, I have to agree and I too shall be going on." Roderich replied.

"Fine, I shall be going back to the surface to keep Ludwig company then. It is my duty as a friend not to be a participant in my friends suffering." Kiku replied. "I assume Romano will be occupying Feliciano to the surface too?"

"Yes." Came the mumbled reply.

"I shall go to protect them." Antonio's voice sounded.

"I too." Yao chipped in. Ivan announced that he himself would continue, but the three Baltic's would go back, Lithuania being given the task of messenger. Several other nations decided that it could be a trap and that they too should surface again, even if they had to turn around and headed back into labyrinth once they saw that the injured nations were out and in safe hands.

Eventually, it only left a small but able team to continue onwards. It consisted of Matthew, Gilbert, Roderich, Ivan, Elisabeth, and Vash. They decided that since they were a small group, they could sneak around and use the element of surprise more effectively.

As the nations had been sorting out their new plan, Francis had slipped away silently from them. The one nation he was looking for was not among them and desperation began once more to claw at his heart. He followed another corridor and as he walked the other nation's voices faded to nothing.

'_I'm coming for you L'Angleterre.' _He thought to himself over and over as he fought not to break into a run. His heart beat increased. He wanted Arthur there in front of him to prove that despite all his worries he was alright. His hands began to tremble with adrenaline and the need to see Arthur for himself. He broke into a trot without realizing it and the trot became a jog very quickly. His jog soon broke into a run and that run soon broke into a sprint. He could feel his lungs burn and a stitch forming in his side. He refused to stop though. He refused to stop because he believed that if he did, it would be too late.

As he ran, an ear piercing scream echoed down the corridor. Francis stopped running. His blood ran cold.

That scream. He knew that scream. He had heard it on the Somme battle field.

Francis took off again in a dead sprint in a direction he prayed was the right direction. He couldn't really tell where the sound came from as it had echoed down the corridors. As he ran he brought out the weapon he had concealed under his uniform back outside the airport. Another agonizing scream rang out, louder than before. Francis took this as a sign that he was getting closer.

His mind narrowed and became tunnel vision. He only had one aim, and that was to rescue Arthur. If that meant turning into the blonde, slimmer, French version of Rambo doing it then he decided that he must. The thought of a body count being racked up never concerned him in the slightest as he rounded what he hoped to be the last corner.

Francis's was rooted to the spot, mortified. His beloved was sprawled on the ground, withering in agony while an assailant was on top of him, pinning him to the floor and torturing him. From his position, he could see Arthur's face contorted as he cried out once more, his back arching and his legs kicking helplessly. Francis could also see the gun pointed up under his chin.

Francis, in those moments, felt such a wave of anger, fury and lust for revenge build inside of him that it would have stunned and horrified any nation who saw him. His eyes burned with the passion for bloodshed that would have terrified any nation, friend or foe, as he as he aimed his gun with what he silently hoped was precision.

To miss meant that Arthur would die.

The sound of gun fire rang out.

A/N: I can't give personal thanks this time. There are simply too many reviews! I never expected that if I'm honest with you. So, of course, I extend a grateful thank you to all who have taken some time to leave me one. I would also like to extend a thank you to those of you who have read my very current fanfics and have constantly said to me, 'why are you doing this when you should be finishing Toy Soldiers?' You should all be glad to know that I am now a thief as I stole the computer back when my friend wasn't looking and emailed the documents to myself. Hence, TS update! Thanks you everybody once more!

OMG! Not only did I just sound like Poland, but my reviews are now above 200. *faints from happiness*


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Francis raced to Arthur's side. The Englishman groaned lightly as he pushed the now dead assailant off him, his hand then hovering lightly above his wound, not daring to touch it through fear of more invoking more pain.

"Arthur!" Francis cried his name in despair as he hauled the dead body further away from him with strength that momentarily stunned Arthur. Dropping to his knees, Francis pulled Arthur into his arms. Arthur hissed in discomfort and his face contorted with pain as pressure was suddenly applied to the wound.

"Took your time, frog." Arthur commented, his speech causing him great pain. "Where the bloody hell you been, twat." In his own way, that was showing affection.

Francis noticed Arthur's blood stained lips and, with them being in contrast with his ashen skin and deep emerald eyes, he found that there was some twisted and morbid beauty to it.

Not wanting to smear the blood across Arthur's face, Francis chose not to try to remove the blood. Another thing that caught his attention was Arthur's thin body trembling in his arms. Francis was about to ask if they had starved him, but then decided against it.

"What happened to you L'Angleterre?" He asked rhetorically in a whisper. He could see exactly what they had done. They had beaten him until he could barely stand and then tried to execute him. Francis felt a surge of pride in his beloved. Arthur still fought, even till the end.

He was nearly a witness to that end.

Arthur didn't answer but instead asked, "You're not hiding a flask of Ceylon tea under that uniform are you?" Francis looked at him stunned for several seconds before laughing a bitter laugh.

"No L'Angleterre, but I shall get you some." Arthur smiled weakly.

"Lovers tiff?" He asked quietly, his emerald eyes focused on Francis's still black eye. He found it quite amusing that not only was he delighted to see Francis, but Francis was also sporting a magnificent purple and black discoloration around his eye. There were only a handful of nations who could deliver a stunner like that with such marksmanship.

"Non, L'Angleterre." Francis replied, refusing to tell why he had one and who had dealt the blow. Arthur wasn't convinced.

Suddenly his emerald eyes clouded over with hysteria. Francis was stunned by his sudden change and strength as Arthur grabbed the front of his uniform, dragging him down hard. "Alfred!" He breathed, his grip tightening.

"Arthur …"

"NO! ALFRED! OVER THERE! GOT TO HELP!" Francis fought to keep Arthur still, fearing that he could hurt himself even more if he let him get up and run off. Considering he was about to go and try to go back into combat against those black clad bastards, Francis seemed to have a point that restraining Arthur was better for his health that time around.

"Arthur … please … stop." Francis ground out between his grinding teeth. Either because of his words or due to having used up all of his sudden energy he had acquired somehow, Arthur fell limp in his arms, his breathing heavy and his chest heaving.

"Please." Arthur whispered as he eyes started to fill with tears. "Please help him." Francis felt his heart shatter with the helpless expression. Even in the pits of despair, Arthur had never looked so vulnerable. Francis brushed some stray strands of blonde hair from the ashen face of his secret love and swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat so he could talk. "The others will get him back."

Arthur's head came to rest in the crook of his arm, his face facing inwards. He could smell the scent of roses and expensive perfume coming from the French nation. Arthur never thought he would be so grateful to recognize and smell that scent again. It was familiar, it reminded him of home, even if the Frenchman had decided to invade it and drive him insane with talk of amour. "Really? You promise?" He muttered, never once thinking who the others were as darkness began to creep into his vision.

"I promise."

Arthur's eyes fluttered shut and he fell into a deep, pain free sleep, the black oblivion bringing relief to his torment. Francis watched him, tears filling his eyes. "What did they do to you?" He asked to the empty room as Arthur remained motionless in his arms. Francis drank in Arthur's tired, worn appearance and felt a savage hatred build inside of him. How dare they lay a finger on his dear beloved!

"Francis?" The sound of Matthew's voice made Francis look up from Arthur and to turn his head to see the Canadian running towards him, closely pursued by several other nations who had not turned back with Ludwig and Feliciano. "Francis wh … oh maple!" Matthew exclaimed as he dropped to his knees next to him. "A - Arthur?" Matthew's hands floated just above Arthur's blonde crown. "Is he …?"

"No." Francis told him. "But those who did this to him will soon be!" Matthew flinched back from him slightly. He could feel the hatred flow of the Frenchman in waves.

Matthew looked up and around at the nations that remained. Roderich looked mortified; Vash looked like someone had hit him hard in the face with a wet fish, Elisabeth competed with Francis in the 'Who Looks like a Murder' competition and Gilbert looked stone cold furious. Ivan stood to the side, his normal smile was replaced with an expression vacant of all emotions, his bazooka still with him and ready to be used.

"Alfred?" The Canadian dared to breathe.

"Arthur said he was over there somewhere." Francis waved a hand in the general direction that Arthur had pointed in previously. "I promised him that you would get him back." Francis looked up at Matthew. "Get him back."

Matthew could tell that the Frenchman's final words to him broke the remains of his heart, his love of Arthur slowly killing him. His final words were a surrender in the war that he had pitched centuries ago to get Arthur to notice him; to love him.

He conceded that Arthur heart was Alfred's, not his own. He had lost the war.

Matthew nodded and stood up from his knelt position to address the remaining nations. "Francis will take Arthur back to the surface." He started. "If anyone wants to go with them then they can feel free to do so."

Each nation looked at one another in turn before looking back at Matthew, their decision made to now see it through. Toris appeared behind Ivan after having followed the corridor that Matthew had told him that they were going to be taking. After a while he had followed their voices.

"Ludwig and Feliciano have made it back to the surface with the others." He reported, his trembling non existent.

"Go back with Francis, da?." Ivan spoke, causing everyone to look at him. "He may lose himself down here. We can not have that." Toris nodded in agreement, a look of fear never once crossing his face.

"Well, onwards." Matthew spoke.

"You heard him! Onwards! Let's get the bastards who did this to our own!" Gilbert roared, causing everyone to give a battle cry in outrage and lust for vengeance. Only Roderich didn't look like a warrior, his aristocratic ways refusing to leave without a fight, but even he too gave a cheer in agreement.

Matthew took one last look around the group and remembered those who were acting like suicide squads elsewhere to give them time. Many of those who had resurfaced had followed Toris back down and were creating distractions as was agreed. Those who everyone had least expected to rise to the challenge had done so. There were even elements in the group before him of that.

Matthew watched Francis stand up and, with Arthur resting protectively in his arms, Toris led him away.

'Right," Matthew thought to himself, 'time to find my brother'.

A/N: Hiya! I'm going to Macau this weekend so I can't write. TT_TT I'm beginning to think writing is my life calling. Anyway – I thought to myself that I haven't been updating very much at all recently and many authors have been prodding me into doing that very thing. So, since I wrote chapter 19 before chapter 18 (don't ask why, the explanation will be longer than the update ^o^) I thought, get it checked and uploaded. Everyone is happy then! So here you are! I hope you enjoyed it!

Oh – and you shall be seeing one of those suicide squads in action in my next update!


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

"We have to buy Mr Ivan time." Eduard contemplated as Raivis looked at him, half expectant of someone or something jumping out at them. The only person who turned up though was Toris as he headed back down in the bunker to help his fellow Baltic's. He had seen Francis to the surface and now he was free to start wreaking havoc.

Eduard and Raivis had been stood waiting while the first group comprising of Antonio (who was now in it for revenge for his beloved Romano), Belarus (who had an insane gleam in her eye every time some one mentioned that Ivan was now a target) and Feliks had gone on in front. A mix matched group, but who knew what chaos and anarchy they could cause.

With Toris's arrival though, the second group went down into the bunker. Toris felt ill with ease as the history of the place pressed down heavily on him, but he refused to show it.

Both groups had based themselves on the military strategy of having citizens disrupting the advancing enemy line during a war so to give a scattered national army time to piece itself back together and to form a plan of attack. It wasn't quite like that in this scenario, but it was close enough that it would work well if pulled off. The two groups now simply had to give the rescue group time to find Alfred and to get back out.

Each of the three Baltic's was weighed down by the weapons and explosives they were carrying. Each though took it in their stride as they went about their given task.

"What's the plan?" Raivis asked in a hushed voice.

"We find some bad guys, then we blow them to hell." Toris tried to shrug but the pack was too heavy. Years of living with Ivan had the effect of making one detached from the horrors of life. Where others would have been horrified, the three nations took it as though it were an every day occurrence.

As they walked deeper into the bunker, the first sounds of gun shots and grenades going off echoed down the corridors.

…

Ludwig sat by Feliciano's side and contemplated. The Italian was asleep and resting peacefully, especially when compared to how he had rested before. His fever was down and he was starting, though only slightly, to resemble his original complexion again.

Heracles had tried to talk Ludwig out of blaming himself when he had seen to Feliciano, but the attempt only ended in failure. Ludwig truly believed that everything that had happened to the Italian was his fault. Looking back, every time the Italian got hurt it seemed to be his fault. Why did Feliciano fall in love with him when all he brought him was pain? This was something Ludwig simply could not understand.

Watching Feliciano's steady and regular breathing, Ludwig sighed sadly. He couldn't sit there any more. The sight of Feliciano being so vulnerable and sickly caused him too much pain. More pain than he would ever have imagined possible. He got up and jumped out the lorry. He didn't go far. He went around the lorry behind the one he had just jumped out off before sitting down hard on the ground and putting his head in his hands. The image of the sickly Italian played out in front of him every time he closed his eyes.

He fought back the tears, but they still came.

…

Francis weaved his way quickly through the trees. Arthur groaned lightly in his arms with the Frenchman's footfalls. Francis cursed himself for being so heavy footed when he needed to be light. Arthur didn't wake though and as he broke through the tree line and saw the lorries once more, he breathed a deep sigh of relief. His keen eyes instantly spotted Ludwig sat with his head in his hands by the side of one of the lorries.

Francis quickly moved around the site, looking for someone who could benefit Arthur. He nearly collided into Yao as he rounded one of the lorries. Yao looked stunned for the first moment but then quickly snatched Arthur from Francis's arms and took off. Francis followed closely behind. It seemed that with Feliciano needing medical attention, they were expecting a second, and a third.

Yao placed Arthur down on a hospital gurney. Arthur was coming around and as Yao look at his wounds, the pain causing Arthur to regain consciousness. Yao didn't deliberately try to inflict pain, but the wounds were so tender that pain was inflicted with the best of intentions. Arthur bit his lip hard to stop himself crying out. He wanted nothing more than to shove Yao's prying hands away and to curl up in the corner away from everyone.

Yao lost his nerve with Arthur gasping and drawing blood in his attempts not to cry out and pulled his hands away. He turned to Francis and asked what he thought about morphine. Francis was already at wits end and just about anything that would relieve Arthur's suffering was now looked upon as a good thing.

Francis leant over Arthur and saw how much pain Arthur was in. Yao administered the Morphine while he did this. The morphine was a risk, but it was a risk that seemed worth taking. Francis simply couldn't bear to see Arthur in so much pain. The pain was simply agonizing, crippling the Englishman.

He placed his cool palm against Arthur's cheek as the drug took effect. Arthur watched him as his eyes clouding over with the effects of the drug. "Francis …"

"Sleep mon cheri, sleep." Francis soothed, rubbing this thumb affectionately against Arthur's ashen cheek. Sleep was already weighing Arthur's eyelids down and his eyes flickered shut as they were too heavy to be held open any more. Francis watched as the morphine worked its magic and Arthur drifted into a painless sleep.

Francis brushed his cuff over his eyes before sitting down next to the Englishman. He could see Feliciano laid unconscious in his peripheral vision. That was why Ludwig had his head in his hands when Francis last saw him. He was guilt racked.

Francis's mind began to drift towards Matthew.

…

"Hurt my future husband will you?" Natalia said in her creepy style, making the assailant she had by the scruff of the neck cry out in both horror and terror. "Will you?" Her eyes took on a wild and savage light.

"Gahhhhhhh!"

Antonio stood back terrified, Feliks hiding behind him. Both of them trembled violently.

As a group they had had success so far. They had taken out three small groups with a mixture of small arms fire and the occasional grenade. They hadn't had the need to resort to something bigger to deal with any of the small groups of assailants they came across. However, one just happened to survive and was conscious. Looking at the man now, both Antonio and Feliks could see that he was wishing he was dead.

"Gahhhhhhh!"

Damn Natalia was scary.

…

"Ready?" Gilbert questioned the group. All nodded with the exception of Ivan. Every one considered him to have been born ready. With the group agreement, Gilbert booted open the door and everyone ran inside. Matthew was starting to notice a pattern. Gilbert liked to boot open doors.

However, that thought line ended abruptly as Matthew laid eyes on his brother, a fear that Alfred had been mortally wounded leaving his heart into knots while depositing a one ton piece of lead in his stomach. He heard Roderich gasp next to him, though he couldn't be sure if it was the sight of Alfred or the sight of Elisabeth impersonating Natalia as she dealt with the last of the assailants in the room that caused it. It might have been both. Heck, most likely was seeing as Gilbert was helping her while Vash scared one who had just regained consciousness out of his skin. Waking up to an angry blonde Swiss towering above you doesn't imply happy mood being obtained by anyone in the near future.

Most of the work had been done for them by Alfred. Only three were left standing when they barged in. The rest were out cold. Alfred stood like a man possessed, his chest heaving with effort and a wild gleam in his eye. He was covered in blood. Matthew almost dreaded walking up to him incase Alfred in his current (and hopefully not long lasting) state of insanity saw him as a foe instead of as a friend.

"Alfred …?" Matthew breathed. "Are … are you injured?" Matthew used this not very taxing question to test the water before getting closer.

Ivan, sensing that he wasn't going to get to use his toy in that particular scenario, moved out of the room unnoticed by everyone else. Stealth at its finest.

"It's okay." Alfred spoke quietly. Matthew moved to him and began, though not confidently, to fuss around him. "It's not my blood." When he came to the conclusion that Arthur was dead he struck without thinking, no longer caring if it got him killed. He figured a life without Arthur around was a poor excuse for a life. If he got himself killed avenging Arthur's death, then so be it. At least he went out doing something worth while. Matthew looked at him carefully. "Not that it matters. Arthur's dead." A strange sensation overcame the American. For someone who was usually so cheerful, the feeling of depression was something that not only had he not encountered, even in the darkest of days, but it was also an emotion that he could not put his finger on and name. He didn't like the feeling. He felt like he was emotionally crippled and separated from everyone else. He couldn't answer why he should do anything at all, especially since his anger had dissipated and left him with the feeling that he couldn't put his finger on. Now, he had no reason to do anything. Everything seemed worthless.

"What? Arthur's not dead." Matthew's voice penetrated into his thoughts of despair, but only just. It took several moments for Alfred to register and understand the meaning of the words.

"You know what that sounded like? It sounded like you said Arthur's still alive." Tears threatened to spill.

"That's what I said. He's alive!" Matthew grabbed Alfred by the shoulders and shook him hard in an attempt to snap him out of his thoughts. He couldn't stand by and let his brother wallow in despair when the very person he was mourning was not dead. "Arthur is alive!" Matthew shouted into his face. "Snap out of it Al!"

"What? … He's …"

"Yes!" Matthew reframed from slapping him to see if some minor violence would work. His final out burst seemed to have worked though and Alfred's eyes stopped looking so dead. Instead they filled with urgency and desperation.

"Where is he?" Alfred eyes seemed to bulge. "He's been shot! Please tell me where he is!"

"Francis took him to the surface. He's fine." Matthew now regretted his previous words and tried to calm his brother down.

"How can he be fine Mattie? He's been shot! Not to mention tortured and abused!" Alfred started loosing his temper.

"God Alfred, what did they do to you?" Matthew asked. He could clearly see that his brother was emotionally strung out. The question caught Alfred off guard and made him splutter and stutter in response. Matthew sighed, saddened. "I won't make you answer."

"I don't mean to break up this beautiful reunion and all, but shouldn't we make like the wind and … oh I don't know … get the fuck out of here!" Gilbert butted in. Secretly, Matthew thanks him for it. He was starting to feel more than a little bit uncomfortable talking to Alfred. This distraction fell perfect for him.

"Good idea." Mathew agreed before grabbing Alfred's arm and dragging him to the door where Roderich, Vash and Elisabeth were stood waiting. "Hey, where's Ivan?"

"Das svidanya, mother fuckers!"

The room shook.

"Is it wrong of me to be relieved that he's now used that?" Gilbert questioned. "Please tell me it could only be fired once."

"Unless he has something stashed under his coat that we all haven't noticed, then I think it's safe to say it was only the once." Matthew commented, his hand still gripping his brothers arm. Alfred's eyes were wide; asking himself over and over what the hell was going on.

"It will be far from a pleasant sight." Roderich commented.

"Nether the less, we have to go out that way." Vash commented dryly, a hint of amusement lighting up his face at the thought that Roderich was repulsed by what he might see.

"Do not patronize me Vash. Making a hypothetical observation does not make me weak. It makes me observant." Roderich shot back. Elisabeth shot everyone a look signaling the end of the conversation. Everyone could tell she was on Roderich's side regardless of what was going on.

Flinging open the door, Gilbert shot through first to find a very happy Russian stood in his way. Gilbert collided with him with an 'oommfff'. Recollecting himself, despite his heart going at one hundred miles an hour, Gilbert turned a hate filled glare on Ivan to hide his terror. Years of being around Ivan did that to a person. "Why the fuck you standing there?"

"Are you not pleased to see me, da?"

"And what's with all the da's? Stop saying da! You're creeping me out!" Gilbert huffed before striding past him with what he hoped looked like dignity. He didn't want to loose face in front of everyone.

"You get some, Ivan?" Vash asked.

"Da." The Russian said proudly. "de-cit."

"TEN!" Matthew exclaimed loudly, causing his brother to look at him in surprise. Since when did Matthew talk that loud? Everyone else was accepting this now as the accepted norm.

"Da." Ivan confirmed, pride evident in his voice. Roderich stared blankly while Vash wasn't sure if he should laugh. There was something vaguely insane about the situation because it was Ivan who did it. If it was someone else like Elisabeth or Vash who did it then it would have been alright and would have gone down with everyone as a normal military maneuver, though maneuver might not be the correct word for it.

"We should get moving." Matthew interrupted the silence. He was surprised though because he wasn't disturbed by Ivan's smiling. In fact, it only seemed to be Gilbert who was disturbed. Everyone else seemed okay with it, though that was only on the outside. What they were truly thinking could be a hell of a lot different.

"Good idea Mattie. Me first." Gilbert desperately wanted to be away.

A long way away.

Sensing this, Matthew followed behind him so to at least put two people between the Prussian and the Russian. He didn't need Gilbert screaming to top the entire day off because Ivan decided it would be funny to breathe on his neck or something. Ivan liked to mess with peoples minds. Matthew would not put it past him even now to declare psychological warfare on someone.

Getting back to the surface was easy, though tense. The occasional small bomb explosion or light gun fire echoed from time to time. The suicide squads were still doing their jobs. Elisabeth would send word and call them off when they were all out.

Alfred listened intently to the sounds while looking at those the group contained. Roderich he never expected to be in the final rescue group. The rest, with exception of Matthew, was pretty much expected. He had to admit though, he expected Yao to be among them. Matthew never released his grip on his brother because he was scared to let him go again so soon. Alfred had a suspicion of this and felt a pool of warmth develop in his chest.

On climbing up the stairs and out into the night, the group of nations scattered in different directions. The woodland air, though heavy with the smell of decay, was welcoming to Alfred as he stepped out into the open air. It was like an old friend who had been long absent. He took several deep breaths, savoring the cool fresh air. He found himself promising never to take fresh air for granted again.

Matthew stood and waited for him patiently as Alfred looked up at the night sky. He knew he should have been dragging his brother to the tree line, but found he couldn't. Alfred's eyes were wide in awe as he watched the stars in the sky. A shooting star moved across part of the sky, a brilliant tail of light was left behind for a second before fading to black again.

"Please let Arthur be alright." Alfred whispered, his eyes closing as he wished for it to come true. He poured his heart and soul into that wish, forgetting that Matthew was watching him.

"Come on Al." Matthew tugged at his arm gently. Alfred looked at him for several moments before silently following, his head lowered as the wish played over and over in his mind. Matthew guided him to the best of his ability through the trees to the trucks. There was a somber silence as he broke through the remaining trees to the road. Alfred felt the silence press on him as everyone looked at him.

Matthew tried to find out where to take Alfred to. He wanted to have him quickly looked at just to make sure he wasn't hiding some god awful wound. Roderich sorted that out for him though as the Austrian waved him over to the back of one of the trucks.

Matthew led Alfred over but felt the American freeze and become tense under his grip.

"Arthur?" Alfred whispered under his breath. In the back of the lorry he had been pointed too, Arthur was laid unmoving on a hospital gurney under an artificial light. Francis was still sat by his side, his shoulders hunched with fatigue. Matthew could only assume that Elisabeth has anticipated the need for hospital equipment and stowed some away in case.

Matthew considered it a good call.

Ripping his arm from the Canadian's grasp, Alfred raced to Arthur's side and gripped the Englishman's hand tightly. Arthur didn't stir, his head continuing to rest on one side. His eyes didn't even flicker.

"You call this okay?" Alfred cried in despair, tears openly flowing down his face. He made no attempt at concealing them. "THIS IS NOT FUCKING OKAY! HE LOOKS FUCKING DEAD!" Alfred was so upset that he didn't even notice Ludwig sat behind with Feliciano also in the same unconscious state on a hospital gurney. Kiku was sat by his side, watching and waiting for his friend to wake up.

Yao appeared next to Alfred. "He's under morphine to help with the pain."

"Won't that hurt him more!" Alfred demanded, his voice cracking but again discarding it in the light that Arthur looked like a corpse under the artificial light. His hand even felt cold to the touch.

"It's the best we can do at the moment."

As Yao tried to explain the ins and outs in an attempt at calming Alfred down, Matthew sat down next to Francis and placed a hand on his shoulder. Francis turned his head to look at him. His ocean blue eyes were filled with unshed tears. Matthew thought his blue eyes complimented Arthur's emerald green eyes lovely, but he kept his opinion quiet.

"How are you?" He asked, his voice barely a whisper. Francis had played a massive part in his life, and despite what everyone thought, the Frenchman meant an awful lot to the Canadian. When Francis hurt, Matthew was affected also.

"Just peachy." Francis mumbled, his voice threatening to break. "I should have told him. There was still a possibility …" He trailed off and bit his lip.

Matthew moved closer and put his arm around the Frenchman's shoulder. "You may still get Arthur."

"No I won't. All Arthur thought about in my arms was about that American." Francis's voice was bitter and resentful. "And just look at how Alfred is clinging to him … would I be awful if I said that it made me sick to the stomach?" Francis looked down at the floor between his feet, expecting the answer to be a yes, drenched in vile disgust.

"No."

"What?" Francis asked, believing he had misheard.

"No, it doesn't." Matthew confirmed. "You're in love. Anybody, no matter how saintly, would feel the exactly the same in your place. Like I said though, you may still get him. Arthur is intelligent, Alfred is denser then lead. It might not work out. You just don't know what the future holds. None of us do."

"Did you learn that from me or Arthur?"

Matthew gave a small chuckle. "When you've been raised by a mad Frenchman, a demented Englishman and have a dense American for a brother, you get philosophical pretty fast."

Francis chuckled weakly. "You've grown into quite the young man. Learn from me though; don't let anything stand between you and happiness. Who ever it is, declare it to them, even if you have to chase them to the ends of the earth. Don't give up until you have them. Trust me, being heart broken hurts." His tears finally started to flow and Matthew pulled him to him, tears of his own stinging his eyes. Francis wept bitterly on his shoulder as his own silent tears flowed.

No one noticed them, and if they did, they chose to look the other way.

A/N: Before anyone asks, Macau was awesome! Bit touristy, but that was righted when a group of near drunken Germans started belting out a song as I walked past! Can I get an epic with that win? I turned into Poland! 'OMG, like, totally awesome!' It made my visit! I'll be truthful; I half expected to see Ludwig and Gilbert among them! Hetalia minded. *nods head approvingly* Hope the update was okay. ^o^


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

"Hey, we're got the code to pull back." Eduard called to Toris and Raivis. The other two Baltic's were in the midst of 'cleaning up' some pockets of resistance while Eduard fiddled with the radio. Well, he would say he was using it correctly, but in reality he was pounding it with his fist in frustration because it wouldn't do what he wanted it to do. The code word of "Maple", seeing as Matthew had cursed when they were trying to decide it because Gilbert had snuck his arm around his shoulders without him noticing before dragging him in to try to kiss him, keep sounding out in Morse across the airwaves. They went with 'Maple' because no one could come up with anything better at the time. Ivan had wanted 'Kremlin'. Silence had been the only response to that suggestion.

"Thing won't work." Eduard bit back his curses. "I can't send a message back telling them we have it."

"Let's just go." Raivis shouted. When they see us running hell for leather they'll know we got it."

"Good. Let's go before we bump into any more of these bastards." Toris was about to turn on his heal and run after the other two Baltic's when he spotted a bag with files poking out the top. "What the …?" He asked as he picked it up and quickly rummaged through it. Documents? "Mr. Ivan might want to see these." Toris spoke to himself as he zipped up the bag and thrust it under his arm for safe keeping before running off down the corridor.

…

"Antonio, we like totally have to go, like now." Feliks said, his voice still sounding like it was sauntering around in a pink frilly dress.

"One moment, let me just punch this ass's lights out." Antonio growled. "That's for Romano! This one is for upsetting my dear Romano! This is for making me come down here to kick your ass because you hurt my Romano!" Antonio found it near impossible to stop punching the man. It was a great way of relieving stress and frustration.

"I think he like now has, like, total brain damage." Feliks commented flippantly.

"What do you care?" Antonio snapped.

"I like totally don't care." Feliks twirled a strand of blonde hair between his fingers. He obviously found it more interesting than watching Antonio beat someone into the dirt. "I totally would like to get out of this damp, dreary place though. Like OMG, it like totally smells down here."

Antonio huffed. "Okay. One last punch." The assailant was already unconscious by this stage; Antonio now was only venting frustration. Feliks didn't reply, but instead shrugged his shoulders and thought about Toris.

"Feliks!" Feliks' head shot up and around to see the three Baltic's running towards him. Toris had caught up with Eduard and Raivis and had even over taken them. Toris had a grin plastered across his face as he ran up and hugged Feliks, delighted that he was okay. He, Raivis and Eduard had run a few close calls, so to see his friend (though a very annoying friend at times) still stood up and untouched, Toris could think of no other way to show his relief.

"You should like totally see your face. You totally look like you're gonna cry." Feliks commented, laughing. Toris pouted as he stood back up straight. He wished that for once Feliks could refrain from being such an insensitive bastard, though he was pretty sure that half the time he wasn't even aware that he was doing it.

Holding on to what dignity he felt he had left, Toris rolled his eyes. "I'm just glad to see you is all." He held back the words 'because I worry about you' because despite them being true, he knew Feliks well enough to know that he would just taunt him with them. He decided that it would be best to keep them to himself. "Where's Natalia?"

"We like totally lost her." Feliks shrugged his shoulders.

"Nothing to worry about. That is one woman who can take care of herself." Eduard commented, remembering all the times Ivan had run away from her. He'd even sat on the roof in the middle of a Russian winter for several hours before Toris found out and promptly dragged him back inside. It was a team effort. Raivis, trembling, had told Natalia that Ivan was in a meeting with his boss to get rid of her. Eduard was stood at the bottom of the stairs as though he was trying to land a jet on an air craft carrier.

"Well, we can't leave without her." Raivis interjected.

"Ivan would be delighted if we did though." Toris reminded them. How many times had the three of them found him cowering in the broom closest because she was stood on the door step?

"Nether the less, we can't leave her." Raivis said.

"Oh yes we totally can." Feliks butted in. "And we are like totally doing it now! Antonio?"

"I need to go back to Romano. He needs me." Antonio had calmed down again and had reverted back to his usual self; his usual self being obsessed with tomatoes and Romano, though the tomatoes weren't getting a look in at that moment in time.

"Natalia …?"

"You said it yourself Eduard, she can handle herself. God help the fool who thinks she needs help. Chivalry only gets you hurt with her. She's a one woman wrecking team." Antonio crossed his arms and nodded in a matter of fact way, stunning everyone. They all had been under the delusion that the Spaniard hadn't been listening to them.

"Okay then, let's go back up." Eduard said, the rest nodding and following his lead. Since everyone was following him, he just hoped he could find his way back without getting them lost and in need of a rescue party themselves.

…

Toris sat beside one of the lorries, his back pressed up against a wheel for support as he quickly flicking through the files that he had found. There was a file of just profiles of all involved with the odd other piece of paper thrown in. Seeing Ivan walking towards him, he quickly placed that file behind the wheel of the lorry before standing up to greet Ivan. With Ivan appearing so suddenly, he hadn't even had the time to scan down their names and nationalities.

"Preevet, Mr. Russia." Toris stated. "We found this on one of assailants." Toris handed over the files. Ivan smiled his creepy smile as he quickly flicked through the pages in one of the files, putting Toris on edge. The nerves were starting to creep back in and he felt his hands shaking behind his back.

"Da. This is good work." Ivan's smile was one of insanity. Toris was used to those smiles, but now he was hiding information from Ivan the smile really terrified him. "Well done Toris."

"Brother."

Ivan froze. Toris leant to the side to see around the Russian only to spot Natalia.

_I thought we left her down in the bunker? She has a nose like a bloodhound!_

"Let's get married brother."

"Ee vee neet zee!" Ivan screamed and raced away. "Ee vee neet zee! EE VEE NEET ZEE!" Toris witnessed Ivan pick up Feliks and throw him to the side in his haste to escape, Natalia hot on his heels.

Toris knelt down and retrieved the file from under the lorry before standing back up, Ivan's screams still audible to his ears.

"Is there such a thing as a normal day anymore?"

A/N: Short chapter! One last chapter now! *dances* Oh! And Ee vee neet zee is Russian for excuse me. You're being awfully polite there Ivan. O_o Well, hopefully that's what it looks like phonetically. Hahaha, Hope you enjoyed. ^o^ Also, thank you to the reviewers. Some of you are so far into my good books; I'm dedicating stories to you!


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

"Hey Matthew." Toris called out to the Canadian.

Matthew looked up. He had spent the past two and a half hours trying to keep Alfred still so a doctor could examine him to make sure he was internally okay. Externally he was fine, but Matthew could not get through to him that what was going on inside that he couldn't see and most likely not even be aware off could kill him, where as a gapping hole in his side of which he would be able to see could be less of a threat.

Dense as lead.

"Just stay!" Matthew ordered. As soon as he had turned his back and left the room though, Alfred slyly removed himself and disappeared into the depths of the hospital. He had a deep mistrust of doctors despite the fact they tended to be right in what they said.

"What's up Toris?" Matthew greeted casually. Toris produced the file from a satchel balanced on his hips.

"I think there are answers in this file." He smiled. "I couldn't save the rest. Ivan saw me with them."

"Oh." Matthew commented, surprised.

"Well, not really. There are Russian's involved in the group who took Arthur, Feliciano, Alfred and Ludwig, and this I have on good authority, the Russian government had no knowledge of it. Pretty sure that if we do some snooping we'll find every government of the nationalities of these men involved would have no knowledge either. Terrorist base maybe. Regardless, these men have shown Russia up. Ivan and his boss will not be happy. If anyone can find these men and deal with them, it's those two."

"God help them."

"God help them indeed, though I'm not exactly sympathetic to their plight." Toris shrugged his shoulders. "How is everyone?"

"Recovering. Feliciano is awake and talking in complete sentences. He's even caused the canteen to run out of pasta. Arthur's operation was a success and is now sleeping the drugs off and Ludwig is fretting but otherwise okay. Alfred is right over … Oh! Maple! Alfred!" Matthew shouted. "I was getting him checked out to make sure he was fine. If he drops dead it's his own fault now."

"He won't." Toris laughed. "He's too damn lucky for that."

"Agreed; I know where to find him though."

"We all do." Toris shook his head and smiled. "Beautiful couple. Anyway, I better get off. Ivan was in a meeting when I left so he doesn't know that I've left at all. Keep that I was the one to give you that file silent if you act on anything in it. If anything, claim you found it yourself."

Matthew nodded. He understood completely. Ivan would not be too happy to find out Toris had hidden something from him.

"Thank you; and take care." Matthew told Toris before parting.

Despite knowing where Alfred was, Matthew had no intention of pursuing him. The new Matthew found that running after people, especially ungrateful ones, was a waste of his time. With this in mind, Matthew took off to the hospital canteen so he could sit over a cup of strong coffee and look the file that Toris had just given him.

:

Matthew sat down and started flicking through the file he had just been given. How many nationalities were these men from? There were some British, some German, some American, some Russian and some from the Latin American countries. They're even some French. Matthew wasn't looking forward to telling Francis that. With the current mental state of the Frenchman, Francis was likely to go on a rampage over it. Toris was right with what he said though; none of them were going to be sympathetic to their plight now. If the likes of Ivan or a pissed off Francis got their hands on those men, every one was likely to turn a blind eye to it.

On closer inspection of the profiles, Matthew spotted that each profile had bullet points concerning their opinions towards America. None were too pleasant to read. Knowing this; Matthew skimmed over them for the bare facts and nothing more. Some simple concepts that would allow him to piece together what caused everything to happen in the first place.

The American army crusading around in the Latin American countries like they owned the place; Americanization (the word McDonalds was in brackets); the French assailants were commenting on their worry for their language, cuisine and tradition during the onslaught of globalization; the British assailants were moaning about being treated like the 51st state among other things; the Russian assailants less than eloquently expressed their burning desire for revenge against the nation that vilified them and now tries to interfere in their source of solid income to gain more power over Europe; the list appeared to Matthew's eye to be endless.

Every nationality had not one, but several bones to pick with America. Matthew whistled at the sheer quantity of reasons for groups of people to look at America with hatred.

Matthew found convoluted amusement in the fact that they went for the Alfred instead of his bosses, past or present. Alfred had a hero complex; oppression never crossed his mind. In fact that was what he thought he was battling against! He couldn't control what his bosses got up to, and according to democracy it was up to the people to give them the boot, being at the next election or before if they did their job that badly.

What made Matthew feel immensely saddened though was that actual Americans were in on it, making sure to note that they saw the floors in their own nation. For people to turn against their own nation was terrible.

Deciding that he didn't want to read any more in one sitting, the entire situation leaving his head spinning, Matthew decided that it would be best if he did go and find Alfred and make him sit the examination. Standing up, he left and took the shortest route he knew towards Arthur room. However, that wasn't how it played out and Matthew wound up walking around the entire hospital before realizing he had seen some of the places he was passing before.

With his natural calm attitude firmly in place, Matthew politely asked a passing nurse for directions before setting off again. Taking an elevator up two floors, Matthew spied Gilbert looking into a hospital room through a window. Matthew didn't need to be told that the Prussian's brother was in there with a recovering Feliciano. He would put money on Romano and Antonio being in there as well.

Matthew walked up to him. "Why aren't you in there with them? It looks like there having fun." Matthew said to the Prussian without actually looking into the room. Gilbert looked round at him.

"I wouldn't be welcome. I'm not his friend."

"But you helped save him. You were one of the main forces that made what happened happen. So why do you undermine yourself so?" Matthew felt his heart tug with the sight of the down hearted Prussian.

"What do you care, Mattie?" Gilbert finally replied. His nation had been dissolved, he no longer had an army that made others tremble and weep in their wake and he was no where near as strong as he used to be. In short, he felt completely worthless and alone. The thought was always there, he just never showed it, until now.

"I care because I love you." Matthew replied before leaning in and kissing the Prussian. Gilbert looked like he had been slapped, and slapped hard. As Matthew pulled back, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth, Gilbert watched him carefully through narrowed crimson eyes. "Don't tell me that all that hitting on me you did was just for show." Matthew chuckled. His confidence put Gilbert on unsure footing, but that didn't mean he didn't like it though. Damn! It made Matthew all the more appealing to him.

Gilbert started to smirk while a strange look crossed his face. "Knew you couldn't resist the awesome me forever Mattie."

"Just kiss me already."

…

Antonio looked at Romano as he tried to act as though he was completely oblivious to anything that had happened in the past week. He was well known though for his fear of showing any emotions that he believed that others would view as a weakness. Antonio had pondered long and hard about how Romano was still like that despite growing up in his home where he was incredibly affectionate towards him. He would have thought that some of the affection would have worn off somewhere along the line on the S. Italian nation.

Apparently not.

"I wasn't worried." Romano commented with a wave of his hand.

"That's not what I was told." Ludwig commented dryly. He had been told about Romano's entrance into the conference room and how he looked at Matthew's. Also with all the times that he had tried to convince Feliciano to leave him along side how he tried and failed to one up the German added up to one caring brother who had little to no skills in showing it.

"Shut it potato bastard!" Romano snapped. "Ah! What! Let go of me you bastard." He shrieked as Antonio wrapped his arms around him and hugged him. Romano's arms were flailing around in the air as he tried to clout Antonio on the back of the head. "You bastard! Get the fuck off me!"

"You are always so cute when you are angry." Antonio cooed and tightened his hold, causing Romano to go into complete melt down.

Their relationship was still going to take some developing.

Ignoring the foul mouthed Romano and the affectionate Spaniard, Ludwig turned his full attention onto Feliciano. Feliciano's chocolate orbs were focused on his brother and Antonio before sensing he was being watched. Turning his gaze upon the German, he noticed sorrow contained within his blue eyes.

"Doitsu?" Feliciano asked, his face full of concern.

Ludwig was lost for words. How could he tell Feliciano that he wanted to leave him? He still loved him, it was simply a matter of protection. Feliciano had gotten nothing but hurt since they had become friends. Ludwig simply couldn't live with seeing the too trusting Italian getting hurt again and again because of him.

Feliciano could see that something serious was passing through Ludwig's mind. It was written across his face. Facial expression only became blatantly obvious when the German was deep in thought. Normally it was vacant of all emotions.

"Doitsu?" Feliciano asked again.

"This is good bye Italy."

Everybody in the room froze. All eyes turned to Ludwig. Feliciano welled up.

"D…D…Doitsu?" He stuttered as his vision blurred.

"It's for the best." Ludwig said to no one in particular as he rose to his feet with the intention of leaving.

"Doitsu!" Feliciano wailed in grief and anguish as he sat up in bed, his chocolate orbs wide and following Ludwig's progress towards the door. Ludwig couldn't deny that the Italian had affected him during their friendship. Hearing the Italian howl in emotional pain not only stopped him where as before he could have carried on and ignored everything going on around him, but he also turned back to comfort him.

Sitting down on the side of the bed, Ludwig awkwardly brought Feliciano to him so that he wept in his arms. "Don't cry, Italy."

Romano and Antonio could not believe what they were seeing. An affectionate Ludwig? Both never thought they would see the day.

"I can change. I can be stronger." Feliciano wept uncontrollably into the German's shirt. "Please just don't leave me." His speech was broken up by his sobs and gasps for breath.

"What?" Ludwig was stunned. "No Italy, it's not you."

"You lie. You have gotten fed up of protecting me because I'm weak. I'm a bad ally!" Feliciano's words horrified Ludwig so much that he was lost for words to comfort his beloved. He had even gone as far as to forget Romano and Antonio stood on the corner still watching.

"That's not it. I swear. It's because you always get hurt around me because of me. I'm leaving you not because I don't love you any more, or for the reasons you think; I'm leaving you because I'm protecting you."

"W… what?" Feliciano sniffled.

"If you had nothing to do with me, nothing of the past week would have happened to you." Ludwig confessed. "It was your association with me that made them go after you. Not you yourself, but me! I … I just want to keep you safe."

Antonio stood staring, completely gob smacked. Emotional development! If he had not seen it for himself he would never have believed it. Before him was a Ludwig who was better in touch with his emotions than ever before. Antonio wasn't the only one staring. Romano was stunned into forgetting the fact that Antonio still had his arms around his waist. As a matter of fact, Antonio had forgotten as well.

"That's why you're leaving me?" Feliciano asked, his tears having stopped and his breathing leveling out.

"Ja." Ludwig nodded. "Ich liebe dich."

"Ti amo." Feliciano whispered back. "

Their lips met but only briefly as Feliciano was over whelmed once more by the onset of tears.

"That's a terrible reason to leave me." Feliciano sobbed into the German's shoulder. "Remember what Arthur said. 'Don't ever let go of him! Ever!' Are you going to go against the advice of someone who has generally suffered in love?"

"You heard that?" Ludwig asked stunned.

"Si." Feliciano whispered and nodded his head gently. "If you left I don't know what I would do with myself. Please, I beg you, don't leave."

Ludwig raised a hand and caressed Feliciano's cheek, feeling the smooth skin beneath his thumb as he ran it across the Italian's cheek bone. "I won't leave you."

"Grazie." Feliciano smiled before their lips met again.

Antonio had found everything so beautiful and touching that he promptly burst into tears and buried his head into the crook of Romano's neck. The feeling of hot tears making contact with his skin and running down his neck to saturate his shirt did not sit well the S. Italian nation.

"Oh way to go potato freak!" Romano huffed. "Now this bastard is making my top all wet!" However, he never tried to push Antonio away, (but he did utter a few ill chosen words that would have made a nun blush).

Ludwig wasn't listening or even taking any notice of them at all. All he could see that mattered to him in that room and in life now was Feliciano, and that was it.

All else fell into irrelevance.

…

Arthur, when he was asleep, didn't look as though he had aged a single day since Francis saw him that fateful evening before the ball all those centuries ago.

The very night that he fell in love with him.

Before he saw what a stunning young man Arthur had grown into, Francis just considered Arthur a friend, though a foul mouthed and unaffectionate friend a lot of the time. That night was the turning point. Arthur was still foul mouthed an unaffectionate, but he had grown, matured, there was more to him than there had been before. He remembered as though it were a photograph the way the tips of Arthur's cheeks and ears had burned when he said he looked stunning. At night when he slept, the memory played itself over and over in his mind. He could still feel the touch of Arthur's lips against his forehead.

Francis would sell his soul to go back to that fateful night.

He truly would. He would give anything to go back, to grab Arthur's wrist as he moved back from him and to drag him close, to press the Englishman up against him and to wrap his arms around his lithe waist. He would give anything to have Arthur look up at him with sweet confusion swirling and clouding his emerald eyes; to see his breathing hitch as he leant in close and kissed him breathless.

Even if nothing came of it other than a broken nose, a black eye and a bruised ego, it would have been worth it just to know.

Now Francis was left with only the memory and his regret for company.

However, when Alfred slid into the room and dropped his bag into the corner, Francis felt his temper spike. Matthew had told him it was completely rational, but there was still a side of him that truly hated the American and now always would. However, he couldn't let it get the best of him.

He needed to have a word with the said American. Lay down some ground rules.

Francis stood up and walked towards Alfred who was still stood in the door way. He was unsure of what to do with himself considering Arthur was still asleep and looked like he wouldn't wake up any time soon. The operation had taken a lot out of him and the drugs were still wearing off.

"I need to speak to you." Francis told him as he grabbed Alfred's arm and dragged him backwards back out the room. Alfred found it strange. Usually Francis had a romantic, smooth tone to his voice that had been known to grind on some nations nerves, predominantly those who knew him well enough not to fall for it, but this time the Frenchman's voice didn't hold any of the metaphorical roses or fine perfume that it usually did. His voice this time was hard and saturated with bitterness.

"What this about?" Alfred asked. His innocence, though genuine, was like a cheese grater against Francis's frayed nerves.

"We need to talk about Arthur." Francis spoke clearly and dryly.

"Oh." Again, Alfred had a genuine innocence about him.

"You hurt him in any way, I will murder you myself." Francis eyes burned at the very thought that Alfred would do Arthur wrong. His blood was already at boiling point, but the thought that Alfred would do wrong to Arthur caused his blood to boil over.

Alfred was shocked. Francis's words seemed to come out the blue at him. What? What was he going on about? Of course he wouldn't hurt Arthur. Not intentionally of course. Alfred, because of his confusion, decided to hide behind his usual laid back attitude. It had worked before. "Don't wor …"

"Don't act so flippant with me boy!" Francis snarled. "If Arthur arrives on my door step one rainy night, his heart broken because you've cheated on him, I … will … get … you. Put a single foot out of line and I will hunt you down. This is not a warning. This is a threat!"

Alfred watched the Frenchman stunned and more than a little scared. He had never seen Francis turn on someone like that. Also, he never spoke that way. When did he ever call someone, or anyone for that matter, 'boy'? The answer was never.

It suddenly clicked why Francis was acting differently..

"You love him." He breathed, kicking himself for not seeing it sooner. The little, though sometimes not very discreet touches; the teasing; the fact that there were days when Francis practically moved in to Arthur's house without invitation; it all came together like a jigsaw and made sense.

Francis's eyes hardened. "Oui. But his heart belongs to you. This is why I'm giving you this warning, and it's only going to be the once. Slip up, I will teach you what real, true pain feels like."

Alfred swallowed hard. "Yes sir." He nodded violently. He had never thought it was possible for Francis to strike such fear into a person. He stood corrected.

"Well then? Go! He's waking up!" Francis had seen Arthur raise a single hand to his face in his peripheral vision.

"Yes, yes." Alfred practically fell over his own feet to get away from him.

"Breathe a word about our little discussion to him …"

"I won't! I won't!" Alfred practically fell backwards through the door. The door closed and Francis remained stagnant. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips firmly together. He felt dead inside. From where he was stood, he could see into the room through a little window. He saw Alfred by Arthur's side. He saw how Arthur's face lit up with him simply being there. The anger had now gone. He just felt empty.

Francis sat down after retrieving a huge cup, though more like a bucket (because let's face it, he needed it), of coffee and started to think about how he would piece back together his own life. He had settled for only seeing Arthur for centuries. There was nothing to stop him from getting close; he simply couldn't touch.

To his surprise, Matthew sat down next to him and pulled him into a warm hug, though he was careful about the placement of the bucket of coffee. "Be strong papa, time is a good healer." Matthew whispered to him.

"I shall be fine in time." Francis muttered, his voice flat and unemotional. "But only in time. I can but only hope that my love fades, though after centuries of the feeling only intensifying, I can not see how that will happen."

"Like I said, they may break up yet. Remember; Arthur's a demented Englishman and Alfred is a dense American. Now what do you think their compatibility rating is?"

"I remember you calling me a 'mad Frenchman' if my memory serves me correctly." Francis replied.

"Mad and demented are in the same league as one another. Oh Maple! They are so similar that they are nearly the same. Dense is just being dense. Like I said, you never know."

"Is this hypothetical talk meant to give me hope?"

"I'm trying to show you not everything is black and white." Matthew rubbed Francis's arm affectionately before standing up. He remembered the file and how some of the men were French. He had to tell Francis, but not now. He would chose a better time which would come later, when emotions had calmed down once more and the news would not spark and immediate witch hunt.

"I'll phone you later to check on you. You going home?"

"Yes. I thought about booking myself into a hotel so I could watch over Arthur till he was well enough to travel. I even thought about travelling with him just to make sure he got there alright. There is no point though." Francis blonde hair fell forward from his shoulders and shrouded his face.

"You should stay. I know for a fact that no matter how much Alfred complains, he won't be able to accompany Arthur back to England. His boss won't allow it. You will be heading that direction anyway. Arthur will want the company, no matter how much he denies it." Matthew told him before bidding a quick farewell and departing. He wasn't controlling what Francis did; he just told him the facts of the matter and let him decide for himself. If he was honest with himself though, he wanted Francis to stay with Arthur. It would hurt with Alfred around, but when Alfred would be forced to depart back to the states, Francis would feel a lot better with his absence. Besides, Francis would never forgive himself if Arthur travelled alone and something happened.

Sighing, Matthew pulled out his own phone to arrange his flight back. There was a catch to his plan though … a pesky Prussian was accompanying him back to Canada.

He was trying to think of a way to get beer onto this flight.

…

"Arthur." Alfred breathed in relief as he saw Arthur look at him. He raced to the Englishman's side, desperate to see him, to make sure for himself that he was alive, to hold his hand and to prove to himself that he wasn't dreaming.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." Arthur whispered, his throat still hurting.

"What? Oh, it's nothing. Just worried about you is all." Alfred gave him a smile. Arthur smiled back and squeezed the American's hand, though only gently. He couldn't muster much energy at all. He could already feel sleep tugging at him once more.

"When can I go home?" He asked, feeling a deep longing to see his house again. To sit and have tea in his kitchen or out in the back yard seemed like bliss to him at that time. Just to sit and relax in the privacy of his own home called out to him as a peaceful and tranquil way to recover. He would have to get the locked changed though and the security updated.

"Soon." Alfred told him. "They haven't put a time on it yet. They want to see how you recover from the operation first."

"Oh, I was looking forward to going home." Arthur looked down heartened.

Alfred felt terrible with those words. Sitting down on the side of the bed, he placed a surprisingly comforting and gentle hand on Arthur's cheek. Arthur turned his face into it and kissed the palm lightly. "I thought you were dead." Alfred whispered.

"I thought you were." Arthur spoke quietly.

Alfred leaned in, his lips meeting Arthur's gently. "I'll get them to allow you to go back home." Alfred vowed. Pulling back, Alfred dived into his bag and brought out a wooden solider. He handed it to Arthur. Arthur's face was a mixture of surprise and shock.

"You still have that?" Arthur's bandaged fingers traced the painted outline of the wooden figure. He still remembered making the collection of wooden soldiers. He still remembered how Alfred's face had lit up when he gave them to him. "Why is this one so special?"

"It's always reminded me of you." Alfred replied. "I keep it on me as a good luck

charm."

"You sentimental twit." Arthur smiled as he tried to hand the wooden figurine back.

"No, keep it." Alfred told him. "It's yours."

Arthur stared in wide eyed disbelief at the American, a lone tear rolling down his ashen cheek. "Thank you."

Alfred took Arthur's hand carefully in his own before raising them to kiss the back of Arthur's. His lips met smooth, cool skin. "I'm going to sit here till you wake up again." Alfred squeezed Arthur's hand very gently. "You look tired.

"Observant." Arthur yawned. "You will stay?"

"Yes." Alfred nodded. "Of course I will. Then I'll work on getting you discharged and off home again."

"Thank you." Arthur muttered over and over as sleep claimed him again. Alfred continued to keep the Englishman's hand in his own while in Arthur's second hand rested the wooden toy solider. Arthur's light breathing was a relief to Alfred, especially with the hospital surroundings.

Arthur's fingers still looked terrible, but they looked a lot better than they did. All of his nails had been removed to reduce the risk of infection setting in underneath them. Arthur ran the risk of loosing his fingers if he kept the nails and an infection set in. Each of his fingers hand been individually tended to and bandaged meaning that he couldn't bend them far, but some movement was still possible. Movement was seen as being good.

It wasn't the first time that he had thought to himself that he could have lost the man sleeping next to him. Now after "talking" to Francis, he realized that Arthur had admirers other than himself, and if he had not said a word, if what had happened had not happened, chances were that one of those admires would have swooped down and swept Arthur off his feet. Alfred already knew that Arthur was very lonely; the mere thought of company who showed an interest in wanting to be around him would have attracted his eye immediately.

"You'll never be lonely again. I promise." Alfred whispered before pressing his face into the crook of Arthur's neck. It was Arthur's good shoulder he was leaning on as he wept, thinking Arthur wouldn't wake up if he did it quietly. He felt so terrible, he simply had to touch Arthur to make sure that he was still there. It was also linked back to when he was a child and he ran to Arthur for comfort. For some reason, he found Arthur soothing when he was upset.

"Don't cry." Arthur's voice made Alfred's breath hitch.

"But …"

Arthur wrapped his arm around Alfred, dragging him closer. "What's passed is passed. There is no reason to weep over yesterday when today is the day that matters." Alfred nodded and sniffed. "Come, lay down."

"What?" Alfred asked confused.

"When you used to be upset, sleeping with me always calmed you." Arthur smiled. "Some habits die hard." Alfred complied and laid down next to him, thinking about what the nurses were going to say about this when they found them. Arthur didn't seem to care. "Get some sleep. You look like you need it."

Alfred slid his hand under Arthur's, causing them both to smile at one another.

Outside the room, Francis had moved on long ago, not wanting to stick around and torture his heart any more than he had too. However, Matthew had appeared and had witnessed Alfred's display of affection for Arthur. Looking down on the file again only one thought came to his mind.

"They got the wrong America."

End.

A/N: END! Well, maybe a sequel is one the cards. I don't know at this stage. What I do know though is that I'm going to finish my other story 'Moonlight Shadow' which is hurt/comfort/angst and is Alfred/Arthur for all you die hard fans of the special relationship who have followed this one. When one gets 27 reviews for one chapter, each demanding an update, then I think it's a safe bet to say, 'I think I ought to update this.' ^o^ Also, if anyone wants to see the alternative outcome to Francis dear treasured memory, go onto my profile and look for 'Still Alive'. Many (including myself) feel very bad for Francis so if you want to see him have a happy ending, that's the story to read, mainly because it links to this one.

Also, Wolf of Infinity, I still owe you a story to be dedicated to you. Sorry. I have a brilliant idea, its just taking its sweet time when it comes to getting it out my head and onto a word document.

If you actually want to see a sequel and would actually read it, drop me a line. I don't mind if it's in the review or personal message. I'll do a tally in the back of my note book to see how many would be interested. ^o^

Niki! Thank you for the delightful emails! I hope this chapter has lived up to everything you were expecting.

Till next time my dear readers!

Annalise


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